One-Shot Fiction: All That You Can't Leave Behind
by Nabiki GMYW
Summary: : Lady Titania's midlife crisis, brought up by Oberon and his new lover, raises some interesting questions…like if she can survive with her sanity intact.


All that you can't leave behind ****

All That You Can't Leave Behind

By Nabiki GMYW

Brief summary: Lady Titania's midlife crisis, brought up by Oberon and his new lover, raises some interesting questions…like if she can survive with her sanity intact.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Disney. Come and join me in the grief it gives me to know such a big idiotic corporation owns such a great show. Email me at [paganj@caribe.net][1]

__

"And love is not the easy thing**  
**_The only baggage you can bring…_**  
**_And love is not the easy thing…_**  
**_The only baggage you can bring_**  
**_Is all that you can't leave behind"_

— 'Walk On', U2

__

"Nada en el mundo merece que se**  
**_aparte uno de lo que ama más."_

— Albert Camus

ACT ONE**  
**_~ Circles ~_

Back in Avalon, Lady Titania, once she remarried her lord and moved back into the castle, didn't aspire for much.

The Gathering had been over for a few months ago, as months are rated in the cosmic scale. When that was over, there was nothing to be done — it was terribly boring. That was the only thing she could do. Be bored.

The return had been fun; she couldn't deny that. It was pleasing to see her once scattered children come home. The celebration had taken a long time —as time is scaled in the cosmic scale — they had wasted an eternity mingling once more over drinks and parties and long tables serving delicacies human chefs could only aspire to in their dreams; thousand year old apples, song and dance and the like. It had been glorious indeed. Eventually, the party had ended, as all things must end some day.

Over time, she lost the count of the days and the hours and the minutes and the seconds as she often stared over the horizon, with some red, thousand year old wine servants had dug up from the kitchen, or that which resembled a kitchen, since the fey didn't eat.

Rather to dwell in those details, she often sat in her high balcony to see her children run around doing whatever it is the wanted to do at whatever the time they wanted to do it. So she would sit in one of the castle's balconies, with her wine, and sometimes with something else. An apple or some candy, or even a full course meal just because.

It was something of a hobby of hers to take an apple and peel it completely and methodically; that is, she took a very sharp knife and started peeling away, so slowly a turtle would've come and gone, and she would still only be beginning. Sometimes she would finally end, and then she would toss it away without even biting it.

And she got another hobby, no less quirky than the first. She got in the habit of… doodling. She liked to call it painting. She felt it was a pleasant, relaxing way to spend her time. It wasn't relaxing at first, because she tried too hard, and though that figures were so incredible, so realistic, so marvelous —so wonderful that DaVinci himself would've come back from the dead merely to mumble 'wow'— it was just too hard.

She decided to just throw paint at the canvas and see what would come out. And she was satisfied with them. The colors, the senseless shapes, the mere insanity of it all —she loved it. Letting go of all coherence, all the rules. It was like shutting down the mind. Now _that_ was relaxing. Her paints were cheerful and optimistic, because she had been feeling so hopeful since she got back. The rest of the Children didn't understand. They could never understand.

That was that, and she was happy, as happy as any fey could get — and the fey were often troubled souls. That is, if they even had souls. They indeed do many dastardly deeds, and she'd done a fair share of them.

However, in her return to Avalon, she would've none of that.

Nevertheless, she _did_ keep an ear out to any gossip her children started. She didn't intervene, but she found it incredibly amusing. Not only her, but also the entire island had become a regular old woman's gossip center. There was nothing to be done but to try and figure out with a couple of good friends who was sleeping with who. But even then she would not intervene much, as not to get too involved.

She didn't aspire for too much. She just wanted to sit there in her balcony and stare at the sky, peel her apple or make a mess of paint. She didn't want complications. She didn't mess with anyone and no one messed with her.

But as these things go, complications would show up sooner or later. Probably sooner. Preferably later.

Though life as she knew it was monotonous, she was happy with it. Finally, after so much time, retirement from worldly affairs. Oberon didn't seem to share that sentiment.

It was so that in the first weeks of their return, Oberon had boasted about the isle, praising it and thanking the winds of fate for returning to it. He had quieted down rather easily after awhile. One idealizes home after been away from it for such a long time. Eventually, he got over it, and spent most of his time out of the isle.

She couldn't care less what his business was. At least, so she pretended; for she always kept an eye out for Oberon, lest he do some bullheaded thing they might all regret later. Still, she found he was good to her. He would every once in awhile come on over with flowers and quaint gifts. It was nothing spectacular; he wasn't much of a romantic. In fact, she could've sworn he was proud of 'taking care' of her. Just who was taking care of whom was a matter of debate among old crones.

The bullheaded thing, which Titania so feared, came sooner than hoped. It was so that Oberon found himself so compassionate, so powerful, that he thought he was doing Titania a favor on taking such good 'care' of her. He thought women were thankful that he had so generously dignified to 'take care' of them. Somehow, he must've gotten the idea women were flocking after him.

That idea, Titania soon discovered, must've come from that young slut she found on her bed one morning.

It was revealed that Oberon had 'befriended' that 3-cent hooker and in his infinite knowledge, had decided to take her in. It was almost ridiculous to think that in a thousand-year-old exile, Oberon still didn't know what was a woman.

Irony is funny that way.

So it came to be that Titania was furious, that she was lonely, that she was angry, that she wanted the ground beneath her feet to eat her up, that she wanted to kill, maim or destroy anything in her way.

She told the whore everything that was in her mind —that not being a pleasant premise— and when words were not enough, they came to fists. Later Titania would scold herself for getting into such a pathetic cat-fight.

Oberon had watched the match and was infinitely amused. He said that the one that didn't like it could pack her bags and leave.

It was just what Titania did.

* * *

__

It's just a stupid phase, she told herself. One of Oberon's usually long and stupid phases.

She scowled herself for the pathetic catfight. She was better than _that_. Besides, it was a matter of time before Oberon committed some sort of idiotic thing like that. And she also knew it was a matter of time before he came crawling back to her. As usual.

It was sad, really. Had Oberon been the intelligent man everyone mistook him for, he would know better than to arouse her anger. He was the one that ended losing. He was the one that had to get down on his knees later, to then complain about his wounded pride. It begged the question as to why did he do it in the first place.

Men were stupid that way.

Queen or not, she was still Anastasia Renard in the World, and she still had all her credit cards in place. She went shopping for an apartment and found one overlooking the city, Eerie Building to be precise. It was beautiful. It was spacious and elegant, not to mention astronomically expensive. She bought furniture and clothes. She felt invigorated by that shopping spree.

She wondered what she would do before Oberon begged her to return. She had all her money, but she hadn't invested it anywhere, because she thought she wouldn't come back. Maybe that's what she would do. Entertain herself investing money, and when she returned to the isle, she would handle it over to dear Alex. But if she was going to include Alex anywhere in her plans, she had to deal with his parents first.

The look on Fox's face was priceless. "Mother?" she said, "What are _you_ doing here!?"

Anastasia Renard, as she liked to call herself now, had to endure a long insult from her daughter just to make it to the living room. She had to say, no, she had to _assure_ and swear on everything holy that she bore no ill intentions.

"Then what _are_ you doing here?" she questioned dubiously.

She was probably asking what her husband desperately needed to know, since for all he knew, she could be here to try and snatch Alex once more. David was probably hiding behind a camera somewhere, watching, inspecting, and obviously plotting a thousand and one plans 'just in case'.

Fox led her to where she thought it was private… The castle's amazing library, with stands reaching the roof, all filled with book from top to bottom.

"I don't see why you don't trust me so." Anastasia had said. "I'm your mother."

Fox gave her an unflattering look.

From behind the queen, a security camera fluttered.

They sat in a small table, located besides a window that allowed one a good look towards the great beyond and the great below; the lights of the city drowned much of the stellar lights, though one or two always managed to let themselves be seen.

The bookcases were tall, very tall. Most of the books where incredibly dusty, and the library smelled like many antique bookstores she once encountered in Europe. She wondered wherever her son-in-law had ever read them all. Not likely, she reasoned. It would take him a couple of lifetimes, and he didn't have such, much to his dismay.

She turned to face her daughter, who still waited a rational explication for all of this. "Well?" Fox insisted.

Anastasia tried to be as rational as she could in her explication.

"There comes a time in a woman's life when she must face a choice. Let it be about life, death or love… or something resembling love, anyway. Oberon and I have separated, and I'm not going back until he gets down to his knees and begs me to return. It serves him right for cheating on me under my nose."

Fox was interested, but didn't seem terribly surprised. She mumbled something that sounded like 'Figures'.

Anastasia wouldn't let it pass it by. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well," Fox began, "It's just that I'm not surprised. I don't really know him," she continued as she lighted up ever so slightly, "He doesn't seem like the best guy… or sentient being… of the world. He looked like the type who would chase anything with a skirt."

She shot her quizzical look and said, "Don't you think I know that?"

"Then why didn't you stay away from him the first time you guys split?"

Anastasia straightened up and said, "Because I have duties. I can only shudder to think what could happen if he was left to his own devises. But don't worry. It's a matter of time until he comes crawling back to me."

She perked up and momentarily met with Fox's eyes, which looked at her as if from the first time ever. "Why are you _really_ putting up with him?"

Why _was_ she putting up with him?

The first answer that came to mind was for the sake of the Children. No one but her could rein in the lord and master of Avalon. Because even though he did the things he did, he knew she was the one and only. 

When it was all over, he would crawl back to her. When he got tired of the slut, he would come back.

She knew he loved her, that in the end, he would seek her out. But she wondered if it was real love or some kind of possession complex. She wondered if he knew how much he annoyed her sometimes. She wondered if a person that was supposedly in love with another was aware of the pain he could cause.

Normal people would, but this _was_ Oberon…

"…him?"

Anastasia blinked and faced her daughter. "What was that?"

"Would you like to see him? Alex?" Fox questioned, "I know you're dying to see him. Might as well get it over with."

She quickly acceded, because she truly wanted to see him. Nevertheless, she had to think about it a few more times. There was someone in the castle she had still to visit, and didn't know wherever he _wanted_ her visit.

Fox led her down the dark gothic hallway. The castle never really lost its dark demure, even when filled with the comforts of modern life.

For some reason, she found herself poking her head shyly as she softly called out, "Owen?"

Alex had gotten bigger, that she soon noticed. His bedroom was now fitted for a toddler; blue race car wallpaper motifs, a race car itself for a bed…

"Ma'am." He replied courteously.

Owen hadn't changed a bit. He was the Alfred Hitchock much-sought blond that he liked to film, cold on the outside, passionate in the insides. And how.

Both he and the child were sitting in the bed. Alex, in his arms, gave his uncle a puzzled look. "Alexander, I'd like you to meet your grandmother." Owen told the boy.

Alex turned to face her and she smiled, "Hello, Alex. Don't you remember your grandma?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I sure remember you, cutie."

"I bet you do…" Fox muttered, hoping she wouldn't be heard.

Anastasia ignored her comment but silently swore to have a 'small talk' with her. She faced the child and said, "You know, Alex, I think you and I will be the best of friends."

She received a nod and a steely gaze from his mentor.

Alex was fast asleep a few hours later, tired from playing and doing magic. She was immensely proud of his display of talent. The Puck had taught him well.

The Puck himself made no appearance. Owen was there in his place, ever vigilant of his pupil. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he knew he must truly love that child to pay such attention.

For some reason, she particularly dreaded spending time alone with him. But Alex needed sleep and she suddenly found herself alone with the trickster.

She didn't know what to say. He offered her no conversation. Inside, she assumed, he had to feel awkward. Or angry.

It took guts to say the first words. "You have taught him well, Puck."

"Of course. Did you expect any less?"

"I guess not."

Silence.

The way she saw it, either they could give each other the cold shoulder all day or they could get over the nasty part right now.

"I suppose you must be asking yourself why am I here." Anastasia said. "Well, it's because I decided to leave Oberon because he's an idiot. He has to come and beg me to return or else he'll never see me alive again."

Owen arched an eyebrow.

She found it curious and asked, "What?"

"Nothing."

"What? Tell me. I want to know."

"It's just that I already knew."

"You knew that he must beg me to return?"

"I already knew he was an idiot, ma'am."

"Oh."

Under any other circumstances, she would've laughed, but this time it took her some time to register what he said. It was his no-nonsense manner that which distracted her.

She was about to ask him if he was still upset, if he hated her, if he didn't want to be with her, but thought otherwise. Those were foolish questions she didn't want answered.

"Would you like to go out with me?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she did so. It just happened.

Owen, though, stared at her shocked. "What?"

"Go out someday." She improvised, "With Alex. I'd like to spend some time with him and I know you wouldn't like to leave him alone."

For once, he looked visibly stunned. "I'd have to ask Mr. Xanatos." He replied.

"Of course, of course." She said. "No rush. I think we have plenty of time. Oberon _is_ an idiot. No doubt it'll take him awhile to notice I'm gone."

He regarded her curiously, led her out and stiffly bowed to her as the elevator's doors closed. Surely, he personally wanted to see her get in the elevator, and no doubt would watch over her every move from the security cameras. 

* * *

Back in her apartment, in the solitude of her apartment, she sat in her couch and turned on the tv. There seemed to be a Twilight Zone marathon going on, bit she didn't pay much attention.

She could still remember the day Owen Burnett walked into her office, with his résumé and his application in hand. 

Preston Vogel, whom she had been interviewing moments before, had stood up to depart her office when the two men crossed their paths. Mr. Vogel didn't remove his wide-as-plates eyes off good Mr. Burnett and blindly walked away until he bumped into a wall.

Even Anastasia had become surprised, then mildly amused when she recognized a certain little something in his blue eyes that seemed awfully familiar. But she couldn't tell who was he. Coyote? Not his style. Raven? Too far away. Another trickster? She hadn't seen any of her people in over fifty years. Maybe her senses were deceiving her.

But then she looked over Mr. Burnett's shoulder to notice Preston Vogel still had that stupidly surprised expression on his face. Maybe her senses were not deceiving her.

But if Owen was special, the Puck was something else.

She could remember when she had met him. He looked as innocent as Alex did, and younger too; he had to be around five years old, but she wasn't sure, because fey children grew up so fast.

When she questioned Oberon about it, he claimed the child had just appeared on his footsteps and he had pitied him and decided to take him in —which was, of course, a lie. For she knew that a certain young woman, who according to the old gossips, was romantically involved with a certain king, had mysteriously up and _died_ sometime before. 

__

Gee, I wonder, Titania had sneered.

Oberon had raised the child, not as his own, but as a servant. His favorite servant, but a servant nonetheless. It was a matter of time, really, that he would end up punished by his fickle lord.

Tired of thinking about it, she turned off the tv and her Twilight Zone Marathon. Tv would not ease her mind.

That's when she got out her canvas. Like she had done before, she just splashed bold strokes of the reds, the blues, the greens, and all the colors she had around until she decided it was enough. She spent a good deal of time splashing the paint before she stopped and took a good look at it.

All the colors she had painted senselessly had merged with each other in a most disturbing way, because if one melds all the colors of the rainbow, one ends up with black. And Anastasia had effectively ruined her canvas, because that painting —meant to cheer up her soul— was merely a black mess that destroyed the rest of the cheerful colors. 

It was depressing. It was disturbing.

It was disturbing because she was still disturbed. Dumped and forgotten by his lord, she couldn't stop thinking about Puck. She, too, had been dumped and forgotten for almost a thousand years. She could relate to him. She could feel for him. But since that incident in the Gathering, she wasn't sure Puck thought of her kindly. But she felt that he alone on this Earth could understand her feelings of being abandoned. Because she was abandoned. Just like him. The only difference was that he would be dumped and completely forgotten, and she had a better chance to get on Oberon's good side.

But they were otherwise the same. And she so needed him to understand. She desperately needed someone to talk to. He would understand, she would _make_ him understand. She felt for him…

"And surely, he feels for me. We are so alike…"

_Alike how?_ Someone questioned.

Anastasia jumped to her feet. There. By the window. A man with a black overcoat and short white hair. He crossed his arms, smirked and said, "Alike how?"

She shot him a look and covered up her painting with the white cloth she had in hand. She sighed deeply. Even as a mortal, Oberon had this air of power and arrogance oozing from him. Sure, he looked like a common man, but the second he opened his mouth he ruined it all. He still smirked, comfortably resting against the window, still waiting for an answer.

"We're alike in that our lord has forsaken and abandoned us on a whim." she finally replied.

"Oh, no." Oberon responded matter-of-factly, "That's where you're mistaken. You two are alike, but not in the way you think. We've been listening in on you for awhile, " he said, with that annoying custom of using plural nouns when referring to himself, specially when he wanted to sound important, "—We hope you're not too offended. It's just that We didn't understand why you left the island without telling Us." He shifted to the proper singular, to sort of 'humble' himself while describing those 'distressful moments' when she was gone: "I looked for you. Everywhere I looked for you and I couldn't find you. I was concerned."

"I'm surprised you cared. And shocked that it took you so long to discover me gone." Anastasia said acidly, "As to why I left is quite obvious: the one that doesn't like it, can leave. Did you not say that?"

Oberon frowned for a moment, but immediately recovered, refusing to lose. "We admit that was quite extreme from our part…"

Anastasia scoffed.

"…and also quite unwise. But she's gone now and perhaps you can return to our island? With Us?" Oberon said, "Forget this incident and return, my lady. Avalon needs you."

"_Oh, please_!" Anastasia cried frustrated, "_Tell_ me you can do better than that, my lord!"

The Lord of Avalon grunted annoyed. He sighed and added, "The lord swears he won't do it again." he grunted a little more, "Ever again."

She could've choked him. He had the emotional quota of a brick. She searched her vocabulary for an answer that didn't sound too offending. "I think…" she said between teeth, "…that your lady still needs to consider it."

Oberon gave her a cunning look and said, "Yes. That's it. That's where you and the Puck are alike. _I_ never forced you two off the island. _I _never abandoned you two. _You_ were the ones to abandon _me_."

A billion things crossed her mind. _Not with words, but you might as well be yelling it all through the island, judging by the way you've treated us over the millennia!_ She wanted to yell. But she didn't. Oberon wouldn't get it.

"Fine," she said, "So _we_ abandoned _you_. It's settled." she said, trying to cut back on the sarcasm, "But if the lord wants the lady back, he better give her a _really, really_ good reason."

Oberon blinked. "I dispatched the whore, didn't I? For the love of Avalon, woman, what else do you want?"

Anastasia lost what little self-possession she had. "Get _out_ of my house! Get out!" she snapped, "Get _ooooouuuut_!!"

Oberon sighed, "Well, We suppose you're still upset. We will drop by again when the lady is feeling better…"

"**_Get out of my house_**!"

"…and hopefully she would've reflected about how rude she was to her lord…"

"**_OUT!_**"

"…and realize," he added cryptically as he took a few steps back and started to melt into the shadows, "that sooner or later, let it be an hour or ten more centuries, the lady _knows_ she will return to her lord…"

"**_Get ooout_**!" she yelled once more, a desperate gesture, and grabbed a porcelain figure nearby, she couldn't tell which, and hurled it against Oberon's shadow. But he was already gone.

After the incident with her husband, Anastasia spent the night reasonably upset. She paced around her apartment until sunrise just muttering angrily to herself. She could still feel Oberon's presence lurking over the city, waiting for her next move.

" _'The lady knows she will return to her lord…'_ " She mocked. "Maybe if the lady is deaf, blind, and stupid…"

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't have to put up with this. But she knew that was also an old song: she remembered muttering the same thing a thousand years ago, right before she divorced Oberon. And to what? To remarry him a thousand years later. Talk about redundant.

Ah, yes. When she encountered Oberon again, she was pleased and very happy; because she wanted to go home, and she…well, she had missed him. She only remembered the good times.

Ah, but now that Oberon was at it again, the bad things outweighed the good things, and she couldn't think of a single good time they had spent together. And she considered never coming back.

But that's what she told herself the first time. Perhaps she was condemned to repeat the whole cycle for the rest of eternity, and the thought was depressing. No rest for the wicked, they say. Some sort of divine punishment for all the things she had done.

She uncovered her black canvas and stared at it for a long time. She took out the first color that came to mind: the yellow, and in the spur of the moment, she painted a large, yellow circle. She inspected it with disgust. It stuck out of the blackness in a quite uncomfortable way. It was ugly.

It occurred to her she couldn't go on like that.

She recovered the painting and sat on her couch, just thinking. Besides feeling enraged, she also felt lonely and pathetic. Now more than ever, she needed Puck to understand. So she had to begin now. She immediately called up David, even though it was 5am in the morning.

She considered it was she who would have to break the circle. She was the one that had to undo the damage. And the one most damaged was the Puck, so she would do everything in her power to make it up to him.

Not only for his sake —rather, to try and save her own soul.

ACT TWO**  
**_~ Don't be ~_

Against all odds, David Xanatos inexplicably let her take Alex out for a day in the sunshine. It didn't seem so absurd when one learned Titania had… tampered… his disposition.

Judging by the way Owen looked at her, she'd say he was onto her.

Owen didn't understand why he was asked to do it, and he didn't particularly cared. He was stiff and distant, but she hadn't expected him to otherwise. Quite the reserved man, he merely did as he was told and granted small displays of affection only towards Alex.

Alex, on the other hand, was oblivious to the drama the adults played and concentrated on the children's playground of Central Park. He was particularly found of the monkey bars. He soon encountered other enthusiastic little boys willing to climb everything that could be climbed.

And Anastasia and Owen were left to sit in a bench and stare at him.

And Owen finally spoke: "It wasn't nice to manipulate Mr. Xanatos like that."

"He wouldn't let me otherwise," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"You could've asked." he said, "I could've helped you. Besides, you can see him in the castle all the time you want."

"What if I told you," she replied carefully, "that I didn't do it for the child, rather, I did it for the teacher."

Owen stared at her perplexed, surprised, "I'd have to ask why."

Anastasia allowed herself to smile. "Because I like you." she said, "And I hope we become good friends."

"Good friends?" he repeated incredulous, and scoffed, "_What_ are you talking about?" He said so with more emotion than he had displayed in a month. "You're playing with me, aren't you?"

"I'm not playing!" she immediately responded, "Don't take me wrong, I'm not playing!"

He looked at her. Then his expression turned bitter, "Don't wound me like this, Titania." he said, with finely tuned harshness, cutting, low, almost an angry whisper. "I don't want your new game, queen of tricksters. Please don't kill me with a new intrigue. I'm too tired to start…" he trailed off and stood up, "Alex, come here!"

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him by her side, forcing him to sit down. "I mean no harm!" she said in another angry whisper, as to not make a show in the middle of the park.

He looked away and replied, still acid, "Why are you here? Did Oberon send you? Does the fairy queen enjoys _mocking_ the disgraced servant?"

"Why this violence!?" she asked him, "What have I done to you?"

He merely stared at her with such a cynical quality, with the cruel, unconscious bitterness of the world-weary, that she removed her hand from his arm and inched away a bit.

"You set me up, fairy queen." he said morbidly, "It all made perfect sense later on. If you wanted a teacher for Alex, you could've just _asked_ me. _Ask_! I would've done it! You didn't have to bring Oberon into this! You didn't have to! Why didn't you just **_ask_**? I needed a reason to stay and Alex needed a teacher. It would've been so simple if you had just asked. Now look at us! Your own daughter _abhors_ you and I am _damned_!"

She could've argued that she didn't know. That she didn't mean it. That it wasn't her fault. That it was all perfectly calculated but it went wrong.

But the truth was, "I only thought about Alex. I didn't consider what would happen to you."

Owen let out a sarcastic laugh, "Well, that just peachy! And now you want forgiveness? You want to be my _friend_? I was a pawn and now I must be your _'friend'_? Oh, that _is_ a good one…!"

He stood up again and called to his nephew, "Alex, come here!"

The child in the sandbox immediately perked up, and saying goodbye to the little friends he would never, ever see again, he ran to his uncle.

"I'm sorry if I'm not 'friendly'," he told her with a mocking sass, "But I guess I've got nothing to lose, so either punish me or strike me dead —I don't _care_ anymore."

* * *

It went spectacularly unsuccessful.

Anastasia would think about it for hours upon hours and she wouldn't stop. "I have wronged you, my Puck." she whispered, and felt tempted to call him just to say that. But she didn't. It wouldn't be any good.

He would hate her for as long as they both lived. He would never understand. Ever. But that wasn't so bad. That his hatred was justified —now _that_ was bad.

She knew and she admitted it was all part of the plan… the pawn…the child… her husband… yes, she had a plan. Later she understood that the plan wasn't entirely made up by her —Avalon had sent the gargoyles straight towards her and she couldn't control Avalon. Later she understood something bigger than her had a plan, and that she had been a pawn like the Puck. And even later she understood they never stood a chance.

Still, she carried part of the blame and Puck wouldn't have anything with her. Yes, that was definitely her fault.

And it occurred to her that if it hadn't happened, she wouldn't feel so lonely.

"Oberon will return for me…that's good, right?" she whispered, but it wasn't what she wanted. He had never been able to understand her. If he had understood her, he wouldn't constantly hurt her with other women.

Only Puck would understand, because he was the only being on this earth other than her that had been constantly brutalized by Oberon.

She started to imagine that life would be so easier for the Puck if he had never being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Or if he'd just forget for a day or two, and forget to hate me and himself…" she mumbled to herself.

That night, she had the oddest dream:

__

"So now I hate myself?" he said, sitting behind a desk, idly playing with his fingers, "Why, I wasn't aware of that. How typical. Always blaming everyone else for your problems…"

It took her a moment to adjust to her environment. Queen Titania had just found herself in a pitch-dark Nowhere, with no ups, no downs, no ground to step on. Nothing. This was Nowhere. This was the Void, a place usually filled with Dreams, but tonight it was reserved just for the two of them…and a desk.

"Lights!" he called, and he was immediately bathed in a spotlight coming out of Nowhere.

"Puck." Titania said as the light scared away the shadows, "Finally, you come to greet me."

The Puck was sitting behind a black desk —similar to the one Owen Burnett had in his office— with an expression of morbid curiosity, an expression of scheming. He looked at her the same way he looked at others, intrigued with their problems and hungry to knew The Whole Story. He pushed away a rebel lock of white hair and smiled.

"Lights!" Titania called, a couple of feet away from him. She heard someone flick a switch and had another spotlight that moved with her wherever she moved. 

Puck stood up and bowed gracefully. Titania circled him like a hawk. Finally, the two main actors were squaring off in the stage.

Inspecting him carefully, she said, "You stormed off on me. You didn't give me a chance to explain…"

"Explain what?" Puck asked sarcastically, "There's nothing to explain. You did what you had to do. It sucks, yes, but there's not a damn thing I can do about it…" he laughed, then paused. "But I suppose I was rude for that thing back there." He paused again and gave her a morbid, jaded, contemptuous look, to then say in a very monotonous way: "I'm bigger than that." Then he returned to his semi-cheerful tone, "Still, do understand me. I was upset."

And be far from her to agitate him further. "So," Titania replied, "what took you so long to greet me?"

"I was pacing myself, my lady." 

"Pacing for what? Waiting for a chance to read my thoughts? Corroborating if what I said was true? I thought Oberon had restricted your magic…"

"It's amazing what I can do for Alex's protection." Puck replied, with a grin. "And yes…I was curious about that. So I guess it's true. You've left Oberon for now, and you're not returning until he gets down to one knee?" he tried hard not to smile. "You're in for a long wait."

"He will return." Titania said acidly. "He always returns."

Puck grinned maliciously, "Keep telling that to yourself and you might believe it." He looked at her like he was about to say something very important. But then he melted into another smile. "How much you want to bet you'll_ be the one to go back?"_

"No bet." she said acidly.

He smirked, "No bet…"

She crossed her arms, "Such arrogance. I would've thought Owen Burnett would've tamed you by now."

"Heh. Shows what you know." he said, more cutting than before.

She shot him a look and asked softly, "Do you hate me?"

He merely looked at her, "Do I hate you?" he repeated softly.

"Considering what happened," she said tactfully, "I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

"Considering what happened," he repeated, "I wouldn't either." He smiled, but it was a sarcastic, incisive smile, "No, I wouldn't be surprised. I wouldn't be shocked, or appalled. But…" he sighed, "We should try to get along."

"So you do_ hate me…" she muttered to herself._

He smirked and continued, "I'm actually looking forward to spending more time with you, my lady. I'm sure it'll be educational for the both of us…"

"So you don't_ hate me?"_

He looked at her and cryptically replied, "Good night, Lady Titania. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

* * *

Encouraged by that conversation, she showed up at Wyvern acting as if yesterday's incident never happened. 

"Back so soon?" Fox asked her accusingly, "Owen told us about a little disagreement in the park. I don't think he'll let you see Alex."

"And naturally, you're overjoyed." Anastasia saucily retorted.

But she didn't waste any more time on Fox. And instead of heading to Alex's nursery, she insisted on visiting Owen at his office. Fox shrugged it off as to some sort of fey thing and pestered her no more.

She poked her head in and tentatively called, "Owen? Are you there?"

He stood out of cold courtesy. "How can I help you, Mrs. Renard?" Owen replied, with that monotone tone of his. He was treating her like Fox's psychotic mother and Alex's bitchy grandmother. As usual.

She sighed. At least she managed to reason with Puck. But that didn't mean he _had_ to be nicer to her. "I was in town and I thought about taking Alex to that Chucky Cheeses pizza thing downtown, but I need a drive." she said, trying to sound natural, "I… would've asked Fox, but she told me she was busy."

"And you ask me?" He said with and arched eyebrow and an ennuyé look in his eyes. He sighed deeply and said, "Very well. How about around 4pm? I'll take you wherever you want, I'll do whatever you want."

Evidently, he wasn't going to cooperate out of the goodness of his heart. So the Puck didn't want to be friendly anyway. Anastasia's face fell. This was getting nowhere fast. But she refused to give up. She only needed to push the moment to its crisis. That, and call on the Puck's shrewd instinct behind those thin rim glasses.

She leaned closer to him and said, "Are you busy tonight?"

"I don't think so."

Anastasia flashed him a mischievous smile, "It's just that I wanted to invite a certain white haired young man over to my apartment to… what do they call it?… A night in the town?"

Owen arched an eyebrow. Something had awakened in him, and Anastasia could see those sparks in his eyes shinning just so. Of course, Owen never lost his composure, but he looked wonderfully cocky. He adjusted his glasses with his index finger and said, "And what will you two do tonight, good lady?"

"Anything he wants." she grinned.

"Anything he wants?" he repeated. He seemed to think about it. "Very well," he said confidently, "but I don't think you'll like it…"

"Don't be presumptuous," she said with a laugh, "With Alex around, I don't think you'll have much lead to do anything."

But judging from his expression, she had pushed her luck too far. "That's right…" he said, "But whose fault is that?"

She couldn't think of anything.

He changed the subject again. "I think I have a meeting at six, but I'll be free by 7:30 pm." he continued calmly as if it had never happened. He brightened up and said, "Your place, you mentioned?"

She hid a relieved sigh and said, "Yes, 7:30 is just perfect." Mentally, she chided herself. She had a feeling she was being an idiot.

* * *

It was embarrassing to admit, but Titania knew she was acting like a teenage girl. She spent a long time dressing up for the occasion, even though she knew she would end up wearing a centuries-old gown.

Near the accorded time, she could tell Puck meant to surprise her by sneaking through a window and jumping in her way. Condescending, she tried her best to act surprised.

He sneaked behind her back and laid his hands over her eyes, "Guess who!" he snickered to her ear.

"Hmm… the pizza delivery boy?" she replied with a malicious grin. "Complete with surfer hair and pimples?"

Puck immediately let her go and turned her around for him to face her, "God, no!"

Alex appeared a few moments later, with a pair of dinosaur pajamas on. "Are we going to have pizza, Uncle?"

"Consider yourself lucky you made it this far. It's _waaay_ pass your bedtime, young man! And I don't think daddy would appreciate it."

Alex flashed him a little smart-assed smile and said, "What the boss doesn't know, can't hurt him. Rule number 3."

Puck wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I taught him that! I'm so proud! C' mere you!" He grabbed the boy, held him upside down and started tickling him.

Titania watched them secretly pleased. She limited herself to ask him not to shake Alex so much, that it wasn't healthy.

Puck opened his mouth as if to complain, but changed his mind. It would've made a very useless argument. He let go of the child and started to inspect her apartment. "Nice. Very nice." He said for the sake of saying something. He pointed at the stand with the covered canvas and asked, "What's that?"

He uncovered the black painting of the yellow circle and simply stared. Titania hurried to re-cover it and excused herself, "It's just a mess of paint…"

"Hmm." Puck replied. "Taking up painting?" He didn't give her a chance to reply; he quickly moved towards the balcony to stare down the city lights.

She joined him soon thereafter. They both stared…stared out there… until Puck asked, "So what do we do now?"

"Whatever you want." she said.

"Whatever _I_ want?" he teased, "So if I said I wanted to jump off a cliff with sharp rocks in the bottom, will we do it?" He smirked, "No, I guess that's too extreme. I can't exactly take Alex with us."

He turned back to look inside the apartment, where Alex was fascinated observing several glass figurines he knew better than to touch; since his parents had already warned him about it. "Alex…" Puck mumbled absentmindedly, "Alex, Alex, Alex…"

He tore his eyes off the child and stared at the sky again. "Well, I guess you can help me teach him some new tricks. That would be nice."

"Yes." Titania repeated, "That would be nice, but…"

She trailed off when those blue eyes set on hers.

"…wouldn't it be nicer to…" She was rapidly running out of words. She noticed her covered canvas and quickly mumbled, "…paint instead?"

Puck blinked. "Paint?"

She knew it was the mother of all lame ideas, but it was all she had. Puck regarded her curiously, but then shrugged.

A master of disguise, he was indeed civil and amiable… but also distant and cold. It was unbelievable he could be both at the same time…but Puck was more than capable of being two things at the same time.

Soon enough, young Alex's paw prints were all over the rug. Puck had mumbled something about it, but Titania replied that it was quite all right; she could have a thousand rugs like that one. He shrugged.

And while Alex destroyed the apartment, Puck was opening and closing drawers as if he owned the place, with a scientific curiosity that forwent manners about asking before snooping.

The covered painting had certainly caught his eye, but he didn't bring up the subject until he found all those other paints in the closet. He had already uncovered several of them before Titania caught up with him. "My," he said, "Never knew you to be an abstract sort of girl…"

Decidedly annoyed, Titania replied, "Will you please put those down?" as she took one off his hands.

Puck immediately picked up another one, "But they're so nice, why don't you want me to see them?"

She took the second one off his hands and said, "Because it's none of your business."

Puck smiled one of the few sincere smiles of the night, "You're embarrassed of them, right? Why? They're good…" then he added teasingly, "They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul… but I think paintings are the second best thing… are you afraid of what I might find in your soul, my dear Titania?"

"Philosophy doesn't suit you, my Puck." she replied dryly, "and I don't have anything to hide. Look all you want, I have nothing to hide."

Puck smirked devilishly at her. Giving her an amused look, he dug up the rest of her paintings, nodding approvingly at each of them. Then he noticed the newer ones and regarded them differently than the others.

Still annoyed, she inquired rudely; "What now?"

"Nothin'." He said absentmindedly, "It's just that I didn't know he could depress you so."

She gave him a look, "Who?"

"Oberon." he said, still looking over those paints, "Just look at these paintings. They're all black!"

She looked at him perplexed, confused. Then she looked at the set of paintings he had and frowned slightly.

He was right. The last paintings she had made were mostly black. They didn't even have a coherent pattern… just senseless darkness. It suddenly struck her as awful paintings. "…They're so depressing…" she mumbled.

"Well, you painted them." Puck teased, "Didn't you find them cute when you finished them?"

"How can anyone find this cute…?" Titania whispered softly, "How could I have ever painted this? It's not me at all!"

He gave her a look she found enigmatic and a line she would never understand, "You know our people. Always crying for mercy in the most unlikely places."

She stared at him, but she didn't ask what that meant. He noticed her stare and she quickly looked away embarrassed.

He lost his interest on the old paintings and uncovered the one with the yellow circle again. He looked at it for the longest time; it was obvious that was the one that intrigued him most. But he didn't seem to like it too much… he was only intrigued by whatever it was he saw.

__

It begs the question as to what_ he's noticing there,_ she pondered annoyed and a little worried. _What's he seeing that I can't see…? What does he think of me…? As a woman or as the demon that chained him to a blue-eyed doll?_

Puck covered the painting quickly and rudely, then snapped, "I love that blue-eyed doll!" He said, "At least I know he'll never leave me!"

Her heart skipped a beat. She had obviously forgotten Puck was still capable of reading minds —especially hers. But her mind at that second was completely blank.

"Did you bring me here to pity me?!" he continued hotly, "Pity the poor mortal Puck!? _Don't_! I'm better off being a hapless mortal free in the world than a parrot in a golden cage! A stupid, mindless parrot that begs for crackers from a selfish master!"

Titania's whole body trembled at the insult —it managed to shake the very foundations of her soul. The shock immediate transformed into indignation and, beside herself with anger, she slapped him with such strength he actually staggered backwards, "You bastard! _I'm the Queen and Lady of Avalon! How** dare you?! How **_dare_ you!?_"

She would've struck him again if Alex hadn't interfered. And he didn't even move. His stare was enough. Titania didn't have to turn around to know the child was there; she could feel her stare and it _burned_.

Words could not describe her humiliation. Slowly putting down her shaking hand, she whispered in a coarse voice, "He's there, isn't he…?"

Puck was in no shape to answer. Covering his face with both hands and all his hair, he merely nodded. After a few seconds of eternal silence, he mumbled almost inaudibly, softly, but strangely firm, "…Don't worry about it… it doesn't even hurt…"

Then he stood up, looking no different than before. But she knew she had struck him quite strongly ---perhaps he took the opportunity to fix any damage while still down.

"Let's go Alex," he said calmly, "It's _waaay_ past bedtime." The child immediately obeyed; he walked towards his mentor and held his hand. Alex did not take his eerie blue eyes of Titania for a moment.

Puck didn't even bother with pleasantries. "Well, I'm off." and hauled the child with him.

Alex never took his eyes off the Queen, even as he vanished with the Puck. Titania couldn't remember if he had blinked. 

No, Alex didn't blink. He just stared.

ACT THREE**  
**_~ If you look at me ~_

She dared not show her face around Wyvern for the longest time, because she doubted she would ever be welcomed back. She didn't think Puck would tell anyone…but Alex…

Oh, those blue eyes…

…the same eyes of his mentor…

…the same eyes of his mother…

The eyes of her people had the most haunting quality. Even in her daughter Janine's, though hers were slightly green and shadowed with the unmistakable veil of humanity. But she had seen Janine's glow that only seemed to manifest itself in moments of high tension. But not in any tense situation. After all, she had spent years as a mercenary, and her powers never showed.

No, it took the possibility of losing something she loved dearly to awake her magic. That's when her humanity's veil was lifted and Titania could see that eerie glow.

She had seen the glow in Alex that night. And she didn't like it. It was the glow of someone about to lose that which he loved most.

Titania thought she had failed him. Failed the child, the mentor, and the daughter.

Oh, her daughter. Thinking about her made Titania think about her father. It made her think about her family… the family she had failed a thousand times…

Three weeks ago…she remembered…

Halcyon Renard greeted her with open arms, metaphorically at least, for his condition had worsen since the last time she saw him. His wheelchair had to be readjusted once more so that it could be controlled by his right hand --his left already useless.

"Anastasia, my dear, you've come back to me!" he said, as if he thought she had left her Avalon for him. It wasn't the case, of course. And Renard was still too smart to think otherwise. Perhaps he said it because it sounded more real when spoken aloud. Perhaps.

Preston Vogel, the mysterious blond's insipid counterpart, hanged about him as usual. He was quiet, as usual. He was babysitting Renard, as usual.

"I thought I would never see you again." Renard continued, with stars in his eyes. She pitied him. "I mean, after that incident with dear Alex… I just thought you wouldn't come back." He continued, "For… how long will you stay?"

"For a few days." she said, sure of herself. "I'm just visiting."

Renard knew next to nothing about Avalon, or Oberon, or the Children. He only knew Anastasia, not Titania. She got the feeling that Renard thought that was all a bad dream and none of it was real. But she knew he was still too clever to fool himself like that. But he still ignored Titania. He was in love with Anastasia, not Titania.

He was also wise enough to avoid asking what happened. She didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to know about it. A simple status-quo. "So," he said instead, "What brings you about here, Anna?"

Their talk strictly business. Anything else would've been too painful. They talked about business and stock and where to invest. How are things down at the club? You opened a new division, that's so nice. Ah, for Alex, you're so thoughtful. You bought more companies, that's just great.

All the while, she couldn't stop thinking how old he had become, how decrepit, is this the man I married? No, there's that something in his eyes, yes, but the something is veiled with glaucoma. The frame of the eyes, the frame is falling apart. The body of this soul, the body is one step too close to the grave.

Just watching him made her sad, incredibly sad. She felt she needed to run away and never return. She was about to run indeed, rapidly interrupting Renard in a speech about lasers to point at her watch to say, "Oh, I've completely lost track of time! I promised Fox I would meet her," --that was a lie-- "And I'm afraid I'm dreadfully late…"

"Don't go yet." he said, "I have something for you. Mr. Vogel, if you may…"

Vogel went and returned with a strange book in his hands and handed it to Anastasia.

"I found it in our old home in the Rivera." Renard continued, "I think it belongs to you."

Touching the book's soft, worn leather, Anastasia smiled. "My old spell book. I thought it long gone."

Happy because she was happy, Renard said, "It was in the attic, next to Fox's baby pictures." he smiled without energy, "And I figured it was yours…"

Flashing the first sincere smile since they began to talk, she said, "Thank you, Halcyon. This means a lot to me."

"Don't worry, don't worry. Anything for you, Anna." And because he had to try, even thought he knew he wouldn't win, but he _had_ to ask, he said, "You know, if you're free sometime, perhaps we could get together…maybe? I mean, we have made incredible advances since you left. We have an amazing program you would just love. Maybe you'd like to see it…maybe?"

"Maybe." she repeated. Another way of saying, no, we won't get together again.

"Well," he replied, "You know where to find me. Be sure to call if you need anything. And…thank you…for dropping by."

"Yes." she said, "Always a pleasure…"

She remembered… that incident almost twenty years ago… she remembered…

The night before he was about to deflect the company with David Xanatos, the Puck showed up in her office. "Owen Burnett won't be with the company anymore." He announced, "And I thought I'd drop by to say good-bye."

He told Titania something that Anastasia didn't know…that her daughter Janine had gotten herself involved with that David Xanatos. Worse, that they seemed to be really, really fond of each other. One could say that they were 'in love'.

"But what does that have to do with your departure?" she asked.

"Why…that I'm gonna be right with them by this time tomorrow." Puck replied very simply, as simple as shaving cream.

"You're taking them with you!?"

"No, my dear, they are going to take _me_ with _them_. Owen Burnett and ten more executives by tomorrow morning will walk out and join…" he paused for the sake of dramatic momentum, "Xanatos Enterprises."

The only thing that she could muster was, "The bastard…"

All things were true, of course. And yes, she had noticed David Xanatos was an ambitious man, but never in her wildest dreams… David Xanatos, who had become a close confidant of the family, Owen Burnett, her favorite trickster in disguise, and her own daughter Janine… Fox … were going to betray her tomorrow.

"You, trickster, you betray me too?" she questioned angrily, "You run away too?"

"I'm not betraying you, my Queen. If I hadn't cared, I would've left with no explanation. But I'm giving you a head start to get ready, even though you can't stop it." he smiled just a bit, "I'm supposed I'm also seeking for your blessings."

"But why!?" she pleaded, "Stay with us, please. I can give you anything, my Puck."

He shook his head and said, "You need to wake up, my Queen. Look around you. I think it's time for the both of us to move on."

She didn't understand what that meant until much later, when she was comforting Renard about the loss. In a fit on anger, he had threatened to take Janine off his will if she didn't leave 'the hoodlum'. Janine shrugged it off, "You can take your money and shove it up your …" David Xanatos snickered politely and walked away, Janine by an arm and Owen Burnett right behind them, along with ten more men from the board.

Only seven investors were left, and they eventually left in little than two weeks. Renard, who had been in the middle of his health crisis, took a dive for the worst. The company began to lose money. For all practical purposes, Renard was ruined.

The final blow was dealt by Anastasia herself when she claimed she was going to California for three days and never returned.

She didn't want to test the theory, but she got the feeling that if she had bothered to look at Halcyon's eyes those two times she ran away from him, she would've seen that glow, that almost magical glow of a person about to lose something he loved above life itself.

The look on her daughter.

The look on the sweet child's eyes that night.

"Everywhere I look, eyes pleading for others. Is that what happens when you're in love?" she sighed heavily and said, "How come I've seen it in all eyes except in my Lord's?"

She thought it was because she hadn't look hard enough, but she wasn't sure, because she knew her lord so well. The thought depressed her.

However, she refused to believe it… the alternative was dispiriting, unthinkable, _terrible_… she had convinced herself that glow would manifest itself in Oberon's eyes when the time was right. And the time had never been the right.

She took out all her old depressing paints and in each one of them she painted small white dots over them. They looked like stardust in a still night. "Hope." she mumbled and hanged all her paints out to dry.

ACT FOUR**  
**_~ Grim Phantasms ~_

It was almost two weeks before she worked up the courage to return to Eerie Building. She returned to him because… why? She wasn't sure. Perhaps she just loved pain. 

However, the one to greet her was David Xanatos, and she felt as if she was forced to prepare for a hurricane by surviving a nuclear winter. He was waiting for her casually leaning against a wall, next to the elevator's entrance.

In his oh-so-charming manner, the second Xanatos lay eyes on her, he said, "_Now_ what do you want?" He didn't bother to wait for her to step out of the elevator.

"Hello to you too, David." she said dryly. "Kicking me out so quickly? It's rude."

"I'm not kicking you out. I'm asking you nicely to return the way you came." He replied, matter-of-factly.

Anastasia was close to losing her patience. "Dammit, David…" she said acidly, "I haven't bothered you in two weeks so I don't know what is it I've done to you!"

Xanatos was about to open his mouth and start arguing when someone said, "Leave her alone, Mr. Xanatos."

Owen, a pro at appearing at the right times, continued rather tiredly, uninspired, "Mrs. Renard. How nice for you to join us. How can I be of service." It wasn't a question; it was a mechanical statement.

Xanatos gave him a look, a very "you're-such-a…" look. Owen avoided looking at him at all. The millionaire turned to Anastasia, then to Owen. He angrily mumbled something she couldn't make out and promptly walked away, shoving… softly, but shoving… his assistant out of his way, giving him 'that look' before disappearing into the halls. 

Owen chose to completely ignore that and said, completely unmoved, "Alex is sleeping. Now is not a good time."

Her magic senses could still perceive her son-in-law thundering around the castle. "It's never a good time, is it?" And had to ask, "What was _that_ all about?"

Owen seemed to think about it, but settled to reply, "Nothin' " in a very childlike, guilty sort of way.

Anastasia didn't like that tone at all. He was almost begging her to question him. "What?" she said; something eerie was crossing her mind.

Indeed, he seemed very forward in that childlike way, "It's just that I had a bad dream."

"A dream?" she repeated incredulously.

"Yeeees…" he said petulantly; it was obvious his mind was elsewhere, "And _you_ were there, and _David_ was there, and _Alex_ was there." He paused and smiled, "And do _you_ know who was the master-of-ceremonies?"

* * *

After watching him act while he spoke of his dream, it was obvious why David held a grudge. Owen was still visibly shaken, because he was so distracted and he had a hard time explaining it without straying from the subject. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a few nights. He was still too upset to provide anything but the most important details. 

"I already told you," he argued when pressed for information, "What else do you need to know?"

"Much more," she argued. She leaned back into her soft, ancient leather seat and sighed. "You're frightened out of your mind over a dream you can't remember or interpret." She smiled, a smile full of pity. "My poor Puck…"

Something flickered to life in his eyes, and his eyes seemed to say, _Don't you dare call me that!_

From what he told her, Anastasia knew that give or take three days ago, he had woken up from a bizarre nightmare he couldn't recall. "…for the rest of the day I could only think about the dream…" he smiled softly, "…no, not the dream… that amazing gap where the dream should be… but I'm not as upset as Mr. Xanatos thinks I am. It's really just…just a mild scare. A very…a very unique way to see things. A prophecy, he called it, but I don't believe him. Besides, I can't remember…I don't care to remember…"

Anastasia knew he didn't mean half of those words. They were in the castle's library, drinking coffee. Rather, Anastasia was drinking coffee; Owen could barely lift the cup because his only good hand shook too much.

She could still feel David around the castle; in a security room she believed. Her son-in-law was getting sloppy. She had already noticed the security camera behind her flicker to life and zoom on her. She had suggested Owen to idea of leaving to have some real privacy, but he refused.

It wasn't like he did it for David's sake. He didn't leave because he wasn't in the correct frame of mind that day. He said he just wanted peace and quiet and just sitting in the library's modest living room fit the bill. "…I like it here…" he said, "…I hear no one and no one hears me…" Had he been in a better state, he would've gotten out of the castle for such delicate affairs.

Anastasia shot an incredulous look at the camera. "Right…" Without taking her eyes off it, she mumbled to herself, "I supposed I have to deal with you too, David?" She could almost see her son-in-law smirk.

"Let me help you uncover that vision, Puck," she said, "I can help you remember it… if you would let me inside your mind, perhaps I---"

"Out of the question." he interrupted coldly, " I don't trust you."

She was sure David felt better hearing that. She got the nagging feeling he wanted Owen to send her away. But Owen was still considering his options. And she could _feel_ David's anxious stare as if he were right there behind her, breathing down her neck.

Gods, she hated that feeling. It was like being followed by a stranger that refused to show his face. She would have to have a talk with David about that. Oh-so-mighty David, always hiding behind cameras.

She shook off that feeling and focused on Owen. "Why _don't_ you trust me? Can't you see I'm doing my _best_? If you could only give a chance…a chance for atonement…"

"…I don't need atonement."

"…a chance to make amends…"

"…I don't _need_ amends!"

"What do you want, Puck!? I only want to help you! You need me as I need you! What do you want?! Ask for the moon and I'll give it to you, Puck!"

"Don't **_call_** me that!" he almost shrieked, "_Can't you see he's **dead**_!?"

She could tell something flashed in his mind like lightning and that it made him shudder visibly to her. He began to trail off and his eyes wandered, "I…" The flash had been cold and it had been frightening and he had felt its jolt run all through his body and it had set him on fire.

She blinked surprised, "You just remembered something, didn't you…? I saw it…a flash of light…black bows in a line…" she said in awe, "What is it…? Don't call you what?"

Looking hopelessly bewildered, he mumbled, "This was a mistake… I should've let Xanatos deal with you…" 

He rudely stood up, but Anastasia held him by the arm with the full strength of her tittle. "Tell me! I won't let you go until you tell me what you saw!"

"This is typical!" he sneered, "The Queen of Avalon always gets what she wants, even if she has to _beat it out_ of her servants…!"

"I'm not doing it for me, I'm doing it for you!" she said, "Show me, Puck! Show me what you saw!"

She began to take probe around his mind but could only feel jumbled thoughts and his anger at her presence. _Don't!_, he yelled silently, "…Don't you ever!" he continued outloud. 

Another flash of light, so strong that it dazzled them both. Lines of black bows…people in black…thunder and rain…

"**_David!_**" he shrieked at the top of his lungs.

* * *

Her eyes narrowed. Yes, David was definitely there, watching.

Owen's grip of reality was beginning to slip away. Another flash of light, another surge of vertigo. He fell to his knees, "Xanatos…" he called weakly…

Without turning to Owen, she said, "You wouldn't mind if we had some privacy, right?" She pushed a coffee table next to the wall, stood on it and pulled a few plugs from the security camera. "Sorry, David." she said with a mocking smile.

Holding Owen by both arms, she forced him to sit and quiet down both physically and magically. She made sure her 'invasion' was quick, as to not let him defend himself.

__

Don't you dare! Stop this! It's not fair! She had to cut through all his defenses, all those magical defenses the Puck had made for his doll to keep him from harm…

Then he remembered and she remembered and they both remembered at the same time…

* * *

__

Black bows were tied to the chairs at either side of the carpet that led to the coffin. He could see the flower arrangements and smell the flowers, a scent that would've been nice, even comforting under any other circumstances.

Instead he felt cold, lonely, and segregated. Everyone else was huddled into groups, talking among themselves, and he didn't know how to join them. They looked happy. (because he was dead?) They looked so happy.

He felt out of place. The clothes on him were the same old things he wore in the office. Nobody told him someone had died. He would've dressed for the occasion. Everyone else was wearing their Sunday best. Nobody told him someone had died. 

He considered paying his respects to the dead and getting the hell out of there.

But then he noticed the casket was closed. Now what? He had to do something, everyone had quieted down and were staring at him. Waiting. Waiting for him.

A strange man headed towards him, and pushed him quietly towards the small podium next to the casket. "They're waiting for you to say something…" the man whispered him, "Go on, son. Say something."

"What should I say? What was his name? I don't know him. " he whispered back.

"Of course you know him." the man replied, "Or why else would you be calling him a 'he'?" Then he smiled.

He felt lost. The casket was closed, to make it worse. Everyone was still staring at him, waiting, and he felt flushed. The stranger put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and said, "I'll tell you what… how about you take a peek inside the coffin? Just to jog your memory?"

Unsure, he nodded. It was rude, but he had no better ideas. Very softly, he opened the lid just for a moment, and when he saw him, he dropped it in the shock. The room began to spin and he didn't even have the luxury of fainting.

"That--that--" He began to stutter incoherently, "That's not-- I don't--" Things were moving too fast for him. He was stuttering. He had never stuttered. He always knew what to say. But him…that casket… this horrible place…He was out of words. Was that even possible? Was running out of all the words of the English language even possible? 

"No…" was the only thing he could breathe, softly shaking his head, "No…

"Yes." said the strange man, with a dark, happily dark smile, "Oh, yes…"

He looked at the man, then at the closed casket, "…It can't be possible! It is unthinkable! That's not---I'm not--"

"Yet it is! Yet it all somehow is! Need I open it again to make sure?" The man said, with that devious smirk. Yet he looked pleasant, almost sickening so, and he looked at him with fatherly eyes, "Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. Whatever shall become of you now?"

The man gently made him sit down in the front row, talking to him with that smooth, soft, almost seductive voice, "Poor, poor miserable soul…you, both of you… together so long one can't live without the other… Your eyes, your eyes are as lovely as his…but that's all you've got left of him… only the bluest eyes you've ever seen… and only that."

"No…"

"It's so tragic. So tragic. The bad choices we make hunt us down forever. Did you actually think you could close your eyes and pretend it's not there…? Hide from it behind a child?" His voice was clear, smooth, inviting, "No. But don't despair. It was about time he finally flickered and died. Smile for me. It's better this way…it's better to go out quietly, silently, than in an elaborate theatrics… Don't worry. It's only a matter of time before your borrowed time runs out too. You will join him. Won't that be nice? Ever so nice?" 

Then he added with that mockingly perverse smile, "After all, you're only human."

It took him awhile to register what he said, because it had all taken a surreal air and everything was losing significance. "That can't be," he had mustered, trying to reason it out, "Not like this! Not like this! Not in silence! I refuse to go out in my sleep! What sort of death is that!?"

"Your type of death." The man said, "You're dead."

"No, I'm not!" He snapped.

"You're dead." The man repeated.

"No, I'm not…" he said, unsure, trembling.

"You're dead."

"No…I'm…"

"Dead. I assure you, you're quite dead." the man said, with the comfortable tone of a parent. His voice was so inviting, "Wouldn't it be nice to finish it? Take the fatal step and be bygones be bygones? Yes, I can see in your eyes that you've considered it. But something always held you back. You need to know if it's ok, you need the comfort of the Last Rite, the blessing of a priest. Very well…" He moved dangerously to him and whispered with that inviting, desirable, calm voice, "I'm here to tell you it's ok…The Last Rite has already been performed…you have my blessing…" He stopped and smiled, "Go in peace."

* * *

For a few blinding moments, she could only see those black bows in line.

The emotion was so strong, so biding, she had to get away before she went down with him. Because he was losing his grip of reality so quickly…

With his head tilted backwards, Owen was completely unconscious, "Owen! Puck! Wake you, Puck, it's not real!" She forcibly shook his shoulders until he almost barely opened his eyes.

But she didn't bring him back, David did. "Owen!" He had pushed her away and shook his assistant stronger than she had. "What have you done to him, Titania?!" He snapped at her.

Xanatos made him stand up and forced him to wake up, "Come on, Owen! Don't let her get away with it!"

"Get away with what!?" she had immediately snapped, "I didn't harm him at all!"

"It's just what I've been telling you!" Xanatos continued at the unconscious assistant, "They're playing with you! Titania and her hubby!"

"I have done no such thing…!" Anastasia replied, outraged at the steely, accusing look of her son-in-law. "I only meant to uncover his vision!"

"And damn you for it!" Owen finally spoke up, his mind already clearing. He pushed his boss off him and snapped, "How dare you bring that back!? Not only have I your presence to remind me of it everyday, now I have to put up with my own dreams?! Damn you, Titania! _I'm not even allowed a good night's sleep_!"

He stormed out of the library, and Xanatos would've followed had he not shot him that look that seemed to shout in a thousand ways 'Don't!'

And Anastasia thought she saw something in her son-in-law's eyes shining just so… but then it was gone.

Xanatos silently watched him leave. Then he said, very softly, "I don't know what you're up to… but I think… I _know_… enough is _enough_. Queen of Avalon… queen of misery; that's what you are! Why can't you two just…" he searched for the words, visibly frustrated with himself, "…just — just go away!?"

She was about to start arguing about it, say that it wasn't fair, say that it wasn't her fault, but instead she mumbled, "Two? Me and who else?"

The face revealed itself with a flash of lightning, "Oh…" she began, "…that strange man…"

__

Oh, yes, a little voice echoed, _strange man, but not a stranger…_

ACT FOUR**  
**_~ Love seeker can't stop it ~_

She was sure he did it to annoy her.

All her conjuring to the four winds had not bought him back to her. She tried to be nice, tried to be rude, tried to be. She did everything short of begging. She would never beg. Not even for…

She felt so selfish.

The week after their last meeting was profoundly sad. Beautifully, terribly sad.

She hadn't showed her face back in Wyvern, but she lurked around. Her presence was soft, un-intruding, lest she be caught and forced to answer difficult questions. Her thoughts went to the child's mentor.

He looked all right, but merely on the outside. Inside, she could feel him skittish, upset, and getting increasingly upset everyday. He was worried and that worry was stealing away nights of sleep until it stole them all.

__

Oberon must be having the time of his life, she concluded, _yes, it was you telling him those things. It took me awhile to cut through that seductive voice of yours, that dangerous tranquility… but it was you. I never knew you could be so desirable and so evil, milord. You've outdone yourself. Death was never so alluring._

And in that old friend back in the castle, something was starting to flicker and die.

It was almost unnoticeable, but it was there. The mornings had never been so bleak, and it always looked as if it were about to rain. And when it did rain, it rained and rained for days seemingly without end. And when it stopped, it looked as if it would start raining again at any second.

Every day, the clouds hung low and dark; it was a constant evil omen looming about him, an unrelenting, powerful omen that promised that more evil days were to come. 

But if there was ever a mortal to catch those things, it was David Xanatos. And even with all his hopeful chatter, everyday, every single day, the dark clouds were there, an unpleasant reminder of what was and now wasn't.

A reminder for him and a reminder for her.

She felt so selfish.

But the sky hung low for her too. She spent weeks at her apartment doing absolutely nothing. She even stopped painting. She sat in her chair and stared out the window facing the castle in the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse, however small, of that man. She felt a knot in her chest day in and day out, and for the life of her, she didn't know what it was and couldn't make it go away.

Strangely enough, it didn't bother her a lot. It made her feel alive. It hurt, but it felt ok. She even learned to welcome it with arms wide open.

She never made it go away, but she suddenly understood what it once a day she stumbled upon a mirror. "Gods above!" she exclaimed in realization, "This is how love feels like? This stupid pain, this shortness of breath?" she had to laugh, "How delightfully terrible!"

From that day on, she religiously watched over the castle.

It was exhilarating, but it was also somewhat frightening. But she had heard love made people act like that and rejoiced in the worry instead. Because she didn't see him as a Child, she didn't see him as an ex-employee. She saw him for the first time ever as a man, and her womanly instinct wanted more than a Child or an executive could give her. She had loved him before, but never like this. Never like this.

Of course, it wasn't like she could walk over there and say she loved him. No. That would be quite stupid.

She knew she loved him, but she didn't kid herself about his feelings. No, it would take time. She had won every man's heart of her choosing ages ago, and she knew how it worked. This was no bigger than that. She always got what she wanted —even though the thought struck her as extremely selfish.

But because she knew now wasn't the time, she stayed put and silently contemplated that day when the sky would finally clear for the two of them…

For a couple of weeks she watched…

That light in him was flickering, but somehow, against all odds, he was surviving. It was then when she saw how strong he was.

Sometimes his mornings were so bleak, he considered never getting up at all. Somehow he did, then he encountered a thousand projects yet to be finished. But he finished them. There was always one more bug, but he dealt with all of them.

He was amazing; stronger than she had took him for.

She got the feeling Xanatos had something to do with it. He was the only one perceptive enough to shake him a little when he was staring into space for too long, he was the one saying let's go here, let's do that, look at that poor idiot, we're gonna have a good time, won't we Owen?

Those two made a formidable pair. Working together, they managed to move mountains. They had a better working relationship than most people she could name did and she wondered how that was even possible.

…Weeks passed…

Even though something in him always quavered, it wasn't as strong as those horrible days after the vision. He had returned to being himself. Slowly but surely.

She was nothing short of amazed. Xanatos was the one actually cheering him up, something Titania had desperately failed at. She didn't get it. She didn't get it at all. She wanted to help, but she got the feeling that if she ever showed up again, she would ruin it all.

She pondered wherever he loved her or despised her, but it was foolish questions she didn't want answered —yet somehow, she _needed_ answered. And after much pondering from her, she actually dared to appear to him.

* * *

"Titania?" he had said somewhat surprised, "I didn't know you were still in town…"

Puck wasn't happy about it, but he wasn't completely against it either. In fact, he felt pleasantly indifferent about her, and spoke to her as if she was a randomly seen next-door neighbor. "What have you been up to, proud Titania?"

It was she who had ran out of words. Speaking to him again, being close to him reminded her of the wrongs she had caused him, and she honestly didn't know what to say.

Suddenly feeling very, very small, Titania replied with a mousy voice, "I wanted to check on you. Considering the grief I caused you last time, I…" she gasped for air, "I wanted to apologize."

He stared at her for a long time, a thousand thoughts suddenly flooded him. "Yes," he answered after awhile, "Well, I'd rather not think about it." He smiled very softly to himself. He looked up to her and said, very honest, "It was a rude awakening. Like a terminal disease… it just takes awhile to get used to the idea."

She changed the subject. "I have to go now, I don't think David would appreciate a visit at this ungodly hour, but I have something for you. But I'm sure you won't need it."

The spell book Renard had given her appeared on her hands. "It was on my old attic. If you don't want it, maybe you could give it to Fox."

The Puck gave her a little smirk. "Happy birthday to me!" he said lightly, "That's the second present I've received this week." He turned away for a moment and searched his drawers. He took out a little box and said, "Isn't this the most _charming_ thing you've ever seen?"

She grabbed the box and opened it.

"It's a Rolex!" Puck replied, "He gave it to me! Isn't it _thoughtful_?"

Titania sighed and leaned back with a slight smile. "Thank Avalon."

"Thank Avalon for what? And can I have it back? It's not nice to snatch charming presents."

Titania felt her lips twist as she handed it back, "I was afraid that Xanatos gave you a charming Engagement ring"

Puck gave her a playful look and grabbed the little box. He stared at it for a moment and smiled softly, "…he gave it to me…" He laughed and added, "No one ever gave me anything just because. And Xanatos, of all people. To _me_." He laughed again and repeated emphatically, "_Me_!"

She chuckled and said, "_I_ gave you a gift too, you know…"

He looked up at her, "Oh, yes… but you are you…I mean…" he shifted uncomfortably, "…and Xanatos is Xanatos, and he had never…" he shook his head and shifted again, "Anyway, it's good book. I'm sure I can whip something for Alex to fool around with."

She stared at him, with that soft look of hers and asked, "Are you ok?"

He didn't reply right away. "…Yeah…" he began, then continued more assured of himself, "Yes. I'm fine. Mortals are so surprising…" he clutched the small box with the Rolex, "…so surprising…"

Titania just stared at him. She would've asked what he meant about it… but she ultimately decided to leave it be. Perhaps another night.

That night she spent it listening to him and seeing him and admiring him. It was like having a new toy. She couldn't get enough of him. And she sincerely wished that night would never end. But the night did end, as all good things must end.

She lurked around for a bit longer, just because. And she saw him typing an old report. And she saw him smile at thin air and thought he smiled for her.

(…and had she asked him, he would've said, what are you talking about, sweet Titania? If you had bothered to take a look at what I was writing, read it very carefully, you would've noticed every typed letter there was embroiled with a vague thought and a name I won't soon forget.)

* * *

It wasn't long until that unpleasant visitation.

Before that, she had spent the day wandering in the malls. Shopping was the only thing she was doing regularly. This time she bought Alex a teddy bear she found adorable, and days before that she had bought him a racecar and weeks before that she had bought him a game.

David complained that she spoiled Alex. Actually, David complained about lots of things, thought not always verbally. What really seemed to tick him were the gifts she had brought to his assistant. He didn't say it, but his face gave him away.

Another thing that surely bothered him was that the fey and her began to get along better… or as better as they were going to get. Puck's thoughts were, are, and would always be locked to her, and that was a fact. But he began to talk to her, really talk, and it made her feel so much better…it made them both feel better and cheer up considerably…

They were beginning to be a little more pleasant… be a little more kind…

"Kind how?" that old voice had inquired. Her face twisted in annoyance. Where did that voice come from? She took a look around her apartment until she found him looking at the painting with the yellow circle. He was wearing his human guise, probably to match with Anastasia's human appearance. Pointing at the painting, Oberon asked, "What is this supposed to be?"

Tired, she cut right to the point, "What are you doing here, Oberon? Why did you gave the Puck such an abominable vision?"

Losing the little interest he had in her piece, he replied, "Why are you always so fast-accusing, my Lady? You always seem to think the worst of Us."

"Oh, please. Don't dare deny it! I saw Puck's dream and your face was there." Anastasia quickly snapped, "To what purpose?"

He looked at her and grin, "For attention. Yours, to be precise." He began to stroll around her living room, inspecting every item of decoration she had and nodding in approval here and there. "Since these last few months you've become somewhat… fixated… with the Puck, I thought I could grab your attention with him." He paused and turned to face her, "And judging by your reaction, it worked only too well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anastasia retorted alarmed.

"For weeks now I have seen you sit right there," he pointed at the chair in the balcony facing the castle, "And just stare. These last few days you've bought him gift after gift after gift." His tone dropped ominously, "And I have seen the look of your face…" he sneered, "The world brightens up so when you see him…"

She didn't quite know what to answer. And she ended up saying, "I don't see how any of this is your business. You have your problems, I have mine…"

He neither smiled nor frowned. Instead, he said very coldly, sounding almost sarcastic, "What exactly _is_ going on here, dear Titania?" He watched over her like a hawk, "Why are you looking at _him_ the way you're supposed to look at _me_ only?"

"I don't have to stand here and listen to these accusations!" she uselessly argued, because her lord didn't take his eyes off her.

Regarding her curiously, he said, "Now, Titania, don't deny the truth to _me_. I've also seen what you really think of him. Even back in Avalon I had known how you felt about him, how guilty you felt for leading him by his nose. Don't _you_ deny it, because I know. Admit that guilt is what you've been living for all this time here…"

"I admit nothing!" she crudely snapped, "Out of my presence and out of my house!"

"Proud Titania," he continued calmly, "Do not confuse love with pity. He would not appreciate pity and falling for a condemned man will only bring you pain." He paused again and said, "What done is done, and no matter how much you try, you will never…as they say… 'make it better'."

"Psychoanalysis does not suit you, milord." She snapped acridly. "Neither does games or riddles. How I wish you'd get to the point!"

He smiled for a moment, "I'm getting there. If you want the truth all at once, so be it:" His tone dropped to a more sultry one, "You see, I also know what you'd do for him to make amends. And I know how it would break you if something else happened because of you."

Anastasia took a deep breath. A sudden chill rushed from her head to her toes and she felt the temperature drop in her apartment. "Is that a threat?" she asked with a very soft tone.

"No," he replied, "I'm just pointing out a fact."

Without voice, she mouthed, 'You bastard…'

"Come with me, Titania…" Oberon began to say, "Let Us return to Avalon and forget this ever happened." And he added almost sweetly, "What do you say?"

She furiously shook her head and shouted, "Never! I'm never going to return to that island, even less with **_you_**!"

She mentally braced herself for any theatrics from Oberon, but he merely frowned and gave her look. Then he sighed. "We can understand you're still upset…" he said, "So We will give the Lady a week to reconsider. Please," he added, "Don't do anything you might regret later…"

Her encounter with Oberon left her greatly worried. A week, he said. Only a week. He hadn't said it, of course, but it was a week to decide if she returned to Avalon. Or else.

It wasn't much of a choice.

In fact, it was no choice. She knew her lord. Even if she did comply, he could sneak behind her back and do that which he did best. And she would be in a position hardly able to act.

And for a brief moment, she wondered why had Oberon not struck Puck down yet. And why was he being so patient? She did not like it. Oberon was up to something… but for the life of her, she didn't know what.

As rude, conceited, and hardheaded as he was, Oberon was still the King of Tricksters, and a powerful force to be reckoned with… much to her dismay.

ACT FIVE**  
**_~ And she said, "I don't want to die." ~_

One of the last times she saw him, he looked genuinely pleased at her presence.

It was half pass midnight, but he was still up. Mr. Burnett never slept, or so was the impression he gave. And he had worked very hard on that image. Always so indestructible. Always so threatening.

But he let it slip just for her. Tonight, he even smiled for her and said, "How now, spirit? Whither wander you?"

"Over hill, over dale…" She jokingly replied, "And so on and so forth…"

"What will we do tonight, milady? What endeavor should occupy our time? Alex is looking forward to another magic lesson and I was thinking something along the lines of teleportation… but I'm not sure he's _that_ powerful. Perhaps you can check it out with me?… Titania? Stop it!"

She blinked, unaware of what he said, "What?"

"Don't look at me like that!" he playfully replied, elbowing her softly, "I feel you're undressing me with your eyes!"

"Good gracious, no! I'd never do that!" she quickly retorted, practically blurted out.

Puck acted mockingly offended. He gasped dramatically and tried his best to look insulted, "And why not? Aren't I _handsome_ enough for you?"

Titania stuttered some incoherent things and Puck gave her a funny look. But he lost his interest and let it slip anyway.

Sighing heavily, she was quick to add, "I feel I have the duty to tell you I think this may be the last time I give Alex a lesson in a long time." She paused. "Oberon's come back for me. I'm to leave in a few days."

Puck merely stared. Watching her carefully, he said, "You're not actually doing what he says, right?"

"Well — _yes_, I do."

He still inspected her carefully. He laughed a little incredulous laugh and said, "Did he _do_ it?"

"Do what?"

"Get down on his knees and beg you to return?"

She chuckled somewhat uncomfortable, "No. No such luck."

He stared a few moments, then shrugged. "Then I don't know why you're going back. You are better off without him."

She looked away and said, "It's a bit more difficult than that. I'd rather not talk about it."

"What is it?" he said, with his interest aroused, "What has made Great Strong Woman Titania lower her stand?"

"Whatever makes you say that?" she muttered.

"Oh, Titania…" he said, very condescending, "We have known each other for time outta mind… I know you very well, and you wouldn't obey someone like Oberon unless he had you in an extraordinary bind… what binds you, Titania? What the blazes are you going back for?"

"I find that none of your business! I'm going back because I have to!"

"Have to or want to?" he sassed back. He regarded her thoughtfully. "Or is it…" he continued carefully, "That chronic illness that ails womankind? Oh, proud Titania!" He sighed in disbelief, "Don't tell me you still have _feelings_ for that fool!?"

Titania's head made a 180-degree turn. "Have you lost your mind, Child!?" was the only thing she could blurt out. "You have _no_ idea what you're talking about…" she continued bewilderedly.

"Don't change the subject." He said, watching her in distaste. "_Do_ you, Titania?"

"I don't." she replied, deadly serious, "You know that."

He arched his eyebrow like his alter ego would and never took his eyes off her. "Then _why_," he methodically asked, "are you doing this? If it's not Oberon, then what is? It can't be Fox and Alex… they are well taken care of. I know you, Titania. It's not the kind of love between children and grandchildren. What has you sighing like a girl, Titania?" and he couldn't help but sound sarcastic, "Who's the lucky guy?"

Her blood ran cold in shock. He didn't know who it was, because he wouldn't push the subject like this, but his analysis so far was dangerously close. A good trickster has great powers of observation, and the fact his ability hadn't diminished gave her some cold comfort.

And because curiosity got the better of her, she asked, "How did you know?"

He gestured to her closet. "Your paintings told me…" he said with a grin, "You've brightened up these last few weeks. I know that feeling. I've dated lots of women in my days…It's always a man. It always boils down to a man. I mean… just look at yourself. Mighty Titania always thinks about her hubby before embarking on something; while Oberon doesn't pay back the favor." He seemed thoughtful for a moment, "Is that the misguided thing they call love?"

Titania didn't quite know what to reply. "First, let me make clear that it's not Oberon." She began and halted again. Cautiously, she added with meaning, "…and… do not underestimate 'love'. People have died for love…"

It flew right pass him. "And people have died for hatred. That still doesn't make it ok. Death, my dear, accomplishes nothing."

"But love and hate are two different things… people have died for them both…but only _one_ of them brings _honor_."

"That is subjective. To die for love or hate or honor is all subjective. Honor to you might be stupidity for others."

"Yes," she admitted with a soft urgent whisper, "But if your heart is in the right place you'll be able to _distinguish_ honor from stupidity…" then added to herself, "And everything will be made clear as glass."

"So I guess this means you'd _die_ for love?" Puck smirked, "Truly, milady, this man is driving you insane! I'm gonna have to have a talk with this fellow… And if I were you, I'd think twice before doing anything stupid. I know women, but I also know men. And speaking as a man…" he smirked again, "…sacrifices like those are greatly unappreciated."

She gave him a shady smile and replied, "Spoken like a man, Puck. A man that doesn't know himself anymore than he knows others. To die for others is to give _love_, the most perfect love."

"The _martyr_?" he asked mockingly.

"Only if I have to." she replied, "I don't want to die."

* * *

No, she didn't want to die. She didn't want to die all over again.

The more she thought about it, the less she wanted to return to Avalon. But she realized how foolish it would be if she didn't return. It would do them no good. It would do him no good.

But she didn't want to die. Dear gods, she wanted to _live_.

She spent with him the little time she had left trying to say good-bye. But he didn't understand. To him, it was typical business between his lords. If he knew he was the prize at stake, the story would've been other.

Not that she even tried to tell him. An act of cowardice, perhaps, but a sensible move. That was how things worked for the fey, it was all about not leaving yourself open to attack, about no being vulnerable, and not doing anything that might be used against you latter on.

Perhaps that's why her Owen loved working with her son-in-law, and why they were so brilliant at Wall Street. It was survival of the psychologically fittest. The dangers of the green jungle transplanted to the concrete jungle.

And she knew the only reason she was in this mess was because she left herself open. She had pulled it off with Alex because she didn't think twice. But now that thing called a conscience had awakened in her, pulling these things off didn't seem ethical anymore.

__

But perhaps, she thought, _this situation can be amended._

They met at a nice restaurant called Chez Pierre, near Central Park, in its balcony. It was a wonderful, clear day. The sky was cliché blue, with puffy white clouds adorning it. It was a beautiful, beautiful day.

With a pair of dark Armani shades, she looked the picture of a European ennui. She was gazing at the people come and go when her husband sat in her table, right in front of her.

Oberon wore that human face that closely resembled his real one, only this one wasn't blue and had short white hair. He wore the same black trenchcoat he had worn on their other meetings, with the gloves and everything, even though the day was very warm. He surely didn't mind.

He took off his pair of black gloves and lay them down on the table. Then he joined his fingers and smiled methodically. "So." He said quite calmly, "You wanted to see me."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. And for once, he didn't seem completely pompous. Alas, he knew better than to use his 'We' in front of so many mortals.

She pried her eyes off the wandering humans to face him. She took a sip of the Diet Coke she had ordered earlier and said, "We need to talk."

"Aye, so I gathered." Oberon replied. "About what?"

"About us. About you and me." She put down her Coke, "About a deal."

Oberon smoothly arched his eyebrow. "Reeeaally?"

She nodded. "Really. You see…" she gazed out the balcony once again as she spoke, "…I don't think my presence in Avalon is all that necessary. The more I think about it, the less it makes sense. To put it bluntly, it's stupid."

"What is? Avalon?"

"No, no…_this_. _Us_." She leaned back in her chair, "Oberon… why is it our people insists on hurting each other over and over again? As idiotic as this may sound…" She looked at him straight in the eye, "why can't we get along?"

Oberon stared at her for the longest time. A waiter dropped by and he shooed him away. And after a few moments of silence, he asked, "What's the point of this conversation?"

She sighed. "Why do you want me back? You'll hurt me and I'll hurt you and that will be the story of the rest of our lives. What's the point? Oberon, why should we prolong this…pointless squabble?"

"If you feel like that, why did you agree to be my Wife again in the Gathering?"

"Because I honestly thought that after a thousand years you would've grown out of those…childish pranks! Why bring a slut to our bed? To prove you can? To relief your boringness? Or because you're just a _jerk_?"

Oberon's smile was wiped off his face. "I owe you no explications, Titania." He said, visibly annoyed, "If it makes you feel better, if I had known you would've made this show, I would've thought twice, I assure you."

She scoffed exasperated. "Come _on_! I admit it: a thousand years ago, I wouldn't put this 'show'. But that was then and this is now! Don't you think we're a little **_old_** for these games?"

"Aren't we getting a little self-righteous, Titania?" he hotly argued, "_You_ are the one lusting after the Puck!"

"If you think this all about Puck, you're missing the point!" she retorted, "As alien as this may sound to you, I'm trying to grow up!" She straightened herself up and energetically said, "I'm trying to make up for a mistake I made five years ago! Even though I have made other grievous mistakes, this one is the worst because I _knew_ it was wrong! When I was younger, I did things because I didn't know better. But now that I'm older, I have no excuses. I can't blame my ignorance anymore, I can only blame _myself_."

And then she added, "And in case you're wondering, **_no_**, this _isn't_ the point of this conversation. I can here for a deal, and this is a deal: you leave me alone and I'll leave you alone. Return to Avalon by yourself and do whatever you want. Bring all the women you want. Do anything you want. Just leave me out of it. That's all I ask."

Oberon, for one of the few times in his life, looked sincerely bewildered. "But I love you!" he blurted out.

And for a moment, instead of seeing the all-powerful Oberon, she saw in his place an ignorant teenager, looking at her confused, almost innocently so. Like a child, even. And pity moved her to say, "I don't think you know the _meaning_ of that word…"

Oberon's reaction shifted from the sincerest of surprised to the most grievous of insulted. That façade of eerie calmness he had used against her those last few months evaporated in less than five seconds.

"_Fine_…" He hissed, "**Fine**!" He slammed his fist down on the table, almost breaking it in two. The patrons of the restaurant jumped in surprise and stared at them. "Love, you say! Let me tell you something, foolish woman! People have murdered over 'love', so I wouldn't put it on the pedestal if I were you! Mortals have had their share of suffering because of 'love'! And if you put all hope in love, like you have _my very dear Titania_, you'd find you have put your head in the guillotine! Your head and his head!"

She jumped to her feet and barked, "Leave the Puck out of this!"

"Oooh, but he's already in it! _You've_ dragged him into this! You deserve what you get! And I'll tell you one thing, _Proud Titania_, if I don't give it to you, _he_ will! Ask him about it and you'll see! In everything he does, there is a name entangled, and, my very dear Titania, it isn't _your_ name!"

But she didn't hear him, she was yelling over and over again, "What will you do to him!? What!? Don't touch him, Oberon, or I swear, I swear I'll get you!"

She kept yelling those things even after he had disappeared in the crowd, "I swear!" she yelled, knowing very well that he could hear her, "_I swear_!"

ACT SIX**  
**_~ All that you can't leave behind ~_

It was nearly 4pm in the afternoon when their conversation was over and she didn't have the luxury of time. With Oberon loose in New York like a raving bull, it was only a matter of time before he showed up at the Wyvern doorstep in his fit of jealousy.

One thing was clear: staying in New York was no longer an option. The first thing she did was pack her bags and order two airline tickets. She needed to leave. _They_ needed to leave. The best she could do in such short notice New Orleans, a city she had no contacts and knew nothing about. But it would have to do.

Another thing to do was to contact Owen, because he would surely be the target, but getting a hold of him was next to impossible.

She tried his cell phone a dozen times and she only got the voice mail. She was forced to call the other person she was leaving New York for.

"_Owen? Well, I don't know._" David Xanatos told her by cell phone. With an arrogance she could've done without, he said, "_He's in a few meetings, you know, really important meetings. Cell phones off sort of meetings…_"

"Cut the bullshit!" she snapped, "You know where he is, don't you! It's imperative that I find him! His _life_ may be in danger! If you truly cared, you would tell me where he is!"

"_Danger_?" David repeated, his voice mysteriously neutral, "_What sort of danger_?"

Although she would've loved to tell him to drop dead, perhaps if she just told him what was going on, he would help. "It's about Oberon…I…let's just say there's been a misunderstanding…"

"_What sort of… 'misunderstanding'_?"

"**_Look_**," she snapped enraged, "I don't have time to play twenty questions! If you're not with me, you're against me, and thank to whatever gods you believe in I don't have the time to take you by the neck and squeeze! It goes unsaid that I **_will_** get you for this one, and if I were you, I'd have Owen in the castle by the time I get there, lest I _actually_ take some time to boil you alive in hot oil, you, your father, your dog, your whole damn family and buy Fox another husband!"

Then she hanged up. She would've said more, but that would've been pointless. But, boy, did she really want to hurt David Xanatos right now.

* * *

"Bitch." Xanatos mumbled as he hanged up the phone.

In the quiet conference hall of a hotel somewhere downtown, he and the elite few on New York were listening to the seminar's speaker talk about the latest trends in military technology.

Xanatos leaned back on his chair and kept listening to the speaker until another figure walked towards him with two cups of coffee. "Here's your latte, Mr. Xanatos."

"Thank you, Owen."

Owen Burnett nodded politely and sat in the chair next to his employer. "Who was that just now in the phone?"

"Oh, just Fox checking up on me." The millionaire smoothly replied, "As fascinating as this is, we may have to cut this seminar short."

"Anything wrong, sir?"

"No," Xanatos shrugged, "Just don't want to be late tonight again."

* * *

True to her word, Anastasia arrived to the castle at sunset, when she was sure Owen would be there by now.

She ignored the security guards of the lobby, charged like a juggernaut towards on the elevator, and once on the desired floor, she yelled for the whole castle to hear, "All right, where is he!?"

Angela and Broadway, precisely on their way to the kitchen for breakfast, stumbled upon her by the elevators. Cautiously, Angela asked her, "Lady Anastasia…what's wrong? What's all this racket?"

"Where are Xanatos and Owen? Are they here yet?" she quickly inquired.

Broadway answered, "They must be in the office—wait!"

Anastasia cut him off before he could finish and charged into Xanatos' huge dark personal office. Owen was indeed there… but so was the office's owner. By the way she charged, Xanatos quietly turned to his assistant, "What did I tell you? Completely hysterical."

She purposely ignored her son-in-law and turned to the blond instead, "Puck, come with me! We must talk!"

"About what?" Owen inquired, taken aback.

"Yes, Titania," Xanatos added, "About what?"

She gave Xanatos a look and forced herself to continue, "It's _personal_." she hissed, "I would rather tell you elsewhere."

"Why?" Owen was quick to add, "What's this about you threatening Xanatos over the phone?"

"I didn't—!" She could've choked the millionaire, but it would've only aided his cause, "This is not the time to talk about it! You must come with me! I have to tell you something of extreme importance—"

"Then go ahead and tell me." Owen interrupted, taking a few steps away from her and towards his boss, "Whatever it is, Mr. Xanatos has a right to hear it too."

Xanatos crossed his arms and smirked triumphantly.

Now what? She couldn't possibly tell Owen anything with Xanatos looming over them. Sure, she could tell him Oberon wanted the Puck dead, but as to why he wanted him dead would require a very uncomfortable explanation. After all, Oberon wanted him dead because he was jealous. If she blabbed that, she could create another disaster.

But while she pondered about it, Xanatos took the opportunity to say, "See? It's just what I've been telling you these last few weeks… She's in cahoots with Oberon trying to make you miserable. You've told me yourself how petulant the lords are, Owen. No doubt they've got some devious plan in mind…"

"What!?" she snapped, "Stop talking idiocies, David! I've never planned to hurt you, Owen! You have to believe me!"

But Owen had a serious look of doubt on his face.

David, still with his arms crossed, continued to twist the knife, "Then _tell_ us, Titania! We know you're up to something, might as well _tell_ us. What are you cooking up with Oberon? What are your plans? I can't find any other explanation as to why you've been in Earth for so much time."

"Believe me, _I have no plans_!" Anastasia shrieked, and turned to Owen, "I just can't tell you with your master towering over us!"

But Owen's doubt did not disappear. He took several steps back and muttered, "Then why did you bring back my nightmare…? If you care so much, why don't you leave me be…? Even though I begged you to stop, you didn't…"

"Is this what you think its all about!? You don't understand…" Anastasia slowly replied, pleadingly, "You don't understand… I just wanted to help… you looked so confused over it, I just wanted—" she turned to David, "—I just wanted to help… Help him remember… I _care_!"

Owen looked at her up and down, and absentmindedly he mumbled, "…you? You care? I wouldn't be like this if it weren't for you… If you had just told me, we could've worked something out… together… we all could've gotten what we wanted if you had just told me…and when I was down on my **_knees_**—" he said, "You could've said something… and we all could've gotten what we always wanted…"

She scoffed and shot the two of them a look. "This is what's its all about, isn't it?" Anastasia shook her head and accusingly exclaimed, "Stop this! We've been down this road already! It's always about Alex, isn't it? You two never stop thinking about it!" But then she looked down and away from the duo and said, "…I want this skeleton buried once and for all… I…I was working for Alex with good intentions—"

"Thanks but no thanks. Hell's full of good intentions." Xanatos interrupted. "Don't put me or Alex as an excuse. If your reasons behind this were to get Alex a magic teacher, I also would've agreed to any plan. Owen should've told me what he was up to, but _you_ should've told me too. Everything would've been simple if you had just _asked_ us before acting."

"But you simply wouldn't ask…" Owen finished tiredly, as he leaned against Xanatos' desk like a very old man. "Once a pawn, always a pawn. That's all I ever was. A pawn."

"No…" Anastasia told Owen, holding his arm, "It's different… so many variables… you know Oberon… you were my variable! Why didn't you heed the call?"

Owen snapped out from his daydream, pushed her away and turned harsh, "I told you once and I'll tell you again! Because I'm not a doll! Because I'm not a stupid, mindless parrot that begs for crackers from a selfish master!"

It enraged Anastasia, but Xanatos seemed surprised at his declaration. He looked… flattered. Employer and employee looked at each other and Anastasia realized that battle had been won.

But there was still a presently war to win and she no intention of losing ever again.

"The hell with this!" She grabbed Owen by an arm and snapped, "We _still_ need to talk!" And both of them were gone…as if by magic.

* * *

Anastasia knew she was probably doing a horrible mistake, but at that moment, there were little options left.

Not that dragging Owen from the middle of the office was the _best_ option. She couldn't possibly talk sense with him as long as his master was there to twist her words.

But as lousy a tactical move that was, it couldn't possibly compare to what she was doing right now: they were in the Kennedy International Airport and she was dragging him by the arm down the Departures Section. And having temporally removed his voice so he couldn't argue was twice as bad.

That made the situation extremely embarrassing for her when it came down to boarding the flight. The first passengers were beginning to board the flight. She had stood up and told him, "It's time… let's go…"

Owen, however, showed no intentions of standing up. Instead, he shot her a look full of hatred, crossed both his arms and legs, and stared elsewhere.

"Don't be like this…" Anastasia began, trying to gather her patience. "It's for your own good!"

He deliberately ignored her. He couldn't exactly speak, but had he wished, he could've opened his mind to her and allow her to know what he wanted to say. But even though she knocked, he slammed the door on her and refused to 'talk'. He couldn't and he wouldn't talk.

She sat down next to him. "Please, Puck, do this for me. Get on the plane with me and I'll explain it. Or if you wish, I can give you your voice back and talk about it now. But only if you don't say anything rash…"

He looked at her and frowned a little. He begrudgingly nodded. But the instant his voice was returned to him, he yelled for all to hear, "You **_witch_**! How dare you do this to me!? Wait until Xanatos knows what you're doing! I swear he'll—" he ran out of voice precisely when he was going to say _hunt you down_ and mouthed those last words.

Some of the mortals stared their way and stopped looking when his voice was quieted. Startled, Owen stopped himself to avoid himself further frustrations and leaned back on his chair, shooting Anastasia a murderous look.

"You can walk towards that plane or I can _make_ you walk towards that plane!" Anastasia hissed to his ear, "Believe it or not, I'm being your friend here! I know it's difficult to understand, but I'm trying to help! Did you know Oberon is looking for you to _kill_ you?"

Owen snapped to face her. His eyes, unusually expressive, allowed a faint voice to echo, _Why?_

Everything seemed to hang in the air for a moment. Slowly, ever so slowly, she answered, "Because I care for you more than I've ever cared for Oberon…What I mean to say is…" 

She simply kissed him. It wasn't anything out of this world. She merely kissed him the way she kissed Renard back when he was a healthy young man. But there was something disturbing about a kiss when one of them had his eyes wide-open in shock. As just as suddenly, she broke it off.

She could literally feel his jumbled thoughts, like bees going crazy. It showed on his face, because he looked a bright shade of red, and he looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights of an incoming train.

Slowly, ever so slowly, both his speech and his wits were restored. "It was me?" he mumbled, "I'm the one you were so interested in…?"

This was too much for him.

Alas, he didn't even have the luxury of fainting. It would have done him little good. But he would've liked to jump off a building. _(And he would've done so hadn't he been with Anastasia…)_

He didn't say anything. Neither did she. They just sat there, side by side, watching the passengers of their flight organize themselves and enter the plane. It must have taken them a nice half-hour.

She didn't know what he was thinking, not because he didn't allow it, but because he didn't seem to be thinking at all.

The receptionist began to call the last lines. It wasn't until the very last person boarded the plane that Anastasia mumbled, "They're about to leave…"

Owen said nothing.

"Are you coming?" she mumbled again.

He shrugged.

"Please…consider my request! Come with me and save _yourself_!"

Very tiredly, he said, "Save myself?" He smiled sadly, "My very dear Titania… there's nothing else left _to_ save." He chuckled softly, "You've just sealed my fate with a kiss. But if it pleases you, let's go. Let's leave New York. Let's leave this cursed city once after all! We would make a great team…" his tone dropped to a sultrier one, "We could make a great couple…"

He moved dangerously close to her, and with a cheerfully deranged tone, he sounded so much like his alter-ego as whispered to her ear: "I can do things to you that would make Renard light up like a Christmas tree…yeeeeesss… You and me, entangled like a pretzel… if it pleases you, of course. And I can please you in _so many ways_… "

It was her turn to be hopelessly confused.

She did not like his tone, she did not like the way he was kissing her neck, she did not like the whole situation. Even though he would've done whatever she asked him to do, cross the deepest ocean, have the greatest night of passion… she didn't want it like _this_…not like **_this_**…

Because he wasn't doing it out of love, but out of the deepest despair; doing it out of reluctant defeat, the saddest of surrenders.

And if she allowed it, he would die… die the death of the buried alive.

"Owen, get off me!" she cried as she shoved him away.

Owen scoffed bitterly and bitingly asked, "_Now_ what? Isn't this what you wanted? Let's fuck and get this over with. I'll be more than willing to let you have this body…" He sneered sarcastically, "… Isn't the idea of the Queen screwing the servant boy awfully tempting? Or the younger executive in arms of the seductive older woman? Aren't those romantic visions, Titania?"

He stood up in a beat and hauled her to her feet. He pulled her towards him and forcedly pushed her against a wall. The receptionist at the counter was beginning to stare, but Owen completely ignored her.

Instead, he softly whispered to his queen's ear: "If you desire me so much you were capable of enraging Oberon… why, who am I to make you waste your valuable time?"

The receptionist of the counter spoke through her speaker once more: "Flight 787 to New Orleans now boarding. Last call."

"Owen…" she breathed, "If you do this, you know it'll kill you…"

The blond's mad gleam in his eyes receded somewhat. "Yes…" he mumbled absentmindedly, "…it would…worse than any beating Oberon may give me…"

He started to back away, back towards the line of seats, and unceremoniously flopped down on one of the dark seats. He said nothing. He simply stared down on the carpet.

The receptionist spoke once more, only to say boarding was done and they were ready to take off. "Your plane…" Owen began.

Anastasia softly shook her head. "Forget about it…forget about it…" she took several deep breaths, "If you don't want to go, I won't force you to go. It may save your life…" she closed her eyes for a moment, "…but it would kill you instead."

Owen said nothing, he had run out of arguments. "Thank you…" he mumbled, "Thank you for understanding me this time."

Anastasia smiled vaguely. For the first time in a long time, she felt she had done the correct thing. She had begun to see what was nagging him… no one should be split from the thing one loves most.

Not if it can be helped. It happens, yes, but one must try to avoid it at all costs. Lest suffer a fate worse than death.

She sighing deeply, almost dreamily so. "Is it worth it?"

"What?"

"This life. This city. You'd die if you ever left." she replied slowly, like a very old woman, "Is it worth it?"

Owen smiled very softly. "Let's eat something, Titania."

There was a small all-night cafeteria inside the airport, just around the corner. They sat down and ordered cups of coffee. Owen took the liberty of ordering some pastries too. He hadn't eaten anything all night, and unlike Anastasia, he needed something. He was, for the moment, just a mortal. And he had been through a lot that night.

"You never answered…" she began.

"Answer what?"

"If it's worth it…" she said, "This life."

Owen grunted thoughtfully. Then said: "Did I show you my watch?"

"Hmm? The Rolex? Yes, you did…"

"Well…it's a charming thing, isn't it? And it was completely unexpected. Sure, he had given me presents before…" He smiled to himself, "But this was unexpected. That makes a difference." He sighed pleasantly and continued. "Yes, I think it's worth it…for me, at least. They made me laugh when I was down those weeks ago. And that had been difficult."

"That's it, isn't it? It's him. It's all of them."

Owen smiled slowly, "They care about me here. If you have people that care, any place can be Heaven."

He turned away from her and resting his head against his hand, he smiled as he watched the mortals pass them by. He must've been thinking of those last few weeks.

For a moment, it occurred to Titania that she had missed something important. Those times in her balcony she was seeing…but she wasn't _watching_.

Because hadn't been Xanatos and his troop of stone houseguests cheering him up all the way? Did his mortal make sure he never got too moody? Wasn't he always there, gently cajoling him into cheering up? 

So that was it. No wonder he wouldn't let it go. She would never let it go either. What he found here was more precious than Avalon. And in the morning, his breakfast would taste better than any mortals' or immortals'.

__

If they survived the night.

ACT SEVEN**  
**_~ Everything is Wonderful ~_

Both of them knew Oberon was unmerciful. Owen Burnett was tagged to die. They knew it, there was no point in hiding it. It was just a matter of time. Just a matter of time.

The wait was tiring enough as it was. Midnight had come and gone a pair of hours ago, and though they had to leave the airport, she had to wait for Owen to eat something. True to his stoic personality, he hadn't revealed to her that he was surviving on a dull lunch some twelve hours before. 

Not to mention he was, as some people would say, tired as hell. Never mind Oberon, the lack of sleep and the many revelations alone had him on the edge.

Once his strength and wits recovered, he started thinking logically once more. Slowly but surely, did he begin to realize what his situation meant. The Lord of Avalon was having a fit of jealousy. The Lord of Avalon wanted Puck dead. Owen was Puck.

When the last piece of the puzzle clicked together, he began to get nervous. "How big _is_ this mess, Titania? How upset is Oberon?"

"It's… _big_." Anastasia replied. "It's been dragging on for months and…yes, it's _big_."

Owen was very, very still. "I'm going to die."

"No, you're not!" Anastasia was quick to snap. "Not if I can help it!"

"What could you do…? You are formidable, milady, but brute strength does not suit you. He is stronger than you in that aspect…"

"Then I'll have to look for a way around it, won't I? Trust me, I always do." 

"What do you have in mind?"

Anastasia paused for a moment. "I'm…sure I'll figure it out."

"And what should I do?" he pressed on, "I don't think I could return to the castle… In fact, I may have put every one I know in danger…Alexander and the clan…"

"Let me deal with that. Remember that you have an advantage, as long as you are human, he can't detect you so easily." She was quick to explain. Her tone dropped to her most comforting one, "We should hide out now. The plane has left, but there are other places to hide out. Come with me tonight."

"Where to?"

"My credit cards are still in place. I'm sure we can spent tonight in a decent hotel…not this dreary airport."

Owen found that was logical and acceded to her invitation.

* * *

They found themselves in the closest, cheapest hotel they could find, which happened to be a Holiday Inn. It wasn't all that cheap, but that was beside the point. Owen needed a safe place, somewhere to plan, somewhere to rest. But it was mostly to rest. It had to be one if the worst nights in his life.

The moment he say eyes on the bed, he taken off his jacket, tossed away his shoes, dismissed his tie and flopped on the bed. He had worn out that human body.

Like she had done with Fox back when she was a child, Anastasia cleaned up after him. She hanged his jacket neatly in a closet and put his shoes next to the bed, where he might see them in the morning. "I guess that's that…" she said, "I suggest you stay put…just for tonight."

"I still think you don't need to look for Oberon tonight." Owen replied, as he rearranged his pillows. "It's nearly 3 am and the sun will rise soon. It would be preferable if we waited until sunset today, the gargoyles could be of assistance. _Must_ you leave?"

"If I stay, I may lead him to you…"

"Oh… I suppose you're correct…" he replied. He sighed heavily and rested his head on the many pillows. He smiled vaguely at the ceiling and muttered, "Thank you. For all of this, I mean. Standing up for me."

"It's my fault to begin with." Anastasia mumbled. She started pacing around the closet, meekly and meticulously rearranging his jacket like a mother would.

"What are you planning, milady?" He turned to face her, and followed her pacing with his eyes, "You _do_ have a plan, right?"

"I don't know…" she allowed. She didn't have to face him to notice his concerned eyes. Her back to him, she added, "I'll improvise. I always do."

He stared for a moment. Then he straightened up, sat on the edge of the bed, took her by an arm and gently pulled her towards him. He made her sit next to him. "Whatever happens," he said very sweetly, "I know you'll do your best. Whatever happens…I want to thank you for caring too. I never would've guessed you had a soul after all."

Then he kissed her.

In the cheek.

Smiling very pleasantly, he added, "Don't leave without saying goodbye, all right? Everything may turn out fine… but then again, maybe it won't turn out so fine. Either way, don't leave without telling me goodbye."

Anastasia was rendered speechless. She managed to stutter, "Of course…of course I'll come back…"

She wouldn't remember how exactly she got out of his room, but the last memory she would have from him was right there, on his bed, already deep asleep and dreaming dreams no mortal could ever dream. 

He never looked so peaceful, and it was good, because she would never see Owen Burnett alive again, and it was nice to always remember him like that.

She would find it to be a fitting memory, nothing like leaving with their happiest memory. It was a nice way to go out. A very nice way to be remembered.

Yes. It's easier to leave when everything is wonderful.

* * *

Her next step was to look for Oberon. It was a matter of spreading her influence around the city, look for that familiar energy, that old stirring.

It mustn't have taken her little more than half an hour, something of a record for her and Oberon.

She felt him lurking around the city, but never could quite pinpoint him. But there was a pattern: every once in a while, she could feel him lurking near Wyvern. Convenient because dawn was less than an hour away and she wised to bring the clan up to speed before something worse happened. 

But she needn't be surprised. For she should've known by now that Eerie Building, and only Eerie Building, was where it all began and where all should end. It was where she knew Xanatos would await her, a powerful opponent. And it was also where Oberon was bound to show himself there sooner or later. So there she went.

So far, she had no idea as to what to do when she actually encountered him. What could she do? Threaten him? Fight him? To what lengths would she go to save Puck's life? 

She was no fighter. She had always worked from the shadows, with a meticulous plan. But all she had done these last few months was blunder after blunder. She had not sat down to think, to plan. It would be a miracle if she pulled this off.

What could she possibly do?

What could she _possibly_ do?

But it was Xanatos with whom she had to deal first. She almost wished for Oberon.

When she appeared the main hall, the clan had long ago been informed of the situation— though most of the gargoyles were out in the city, looking for them. Goliath and Brooklyn were there and turned to face her. 

David Xanatos was with them and it was nothing short of a miracle that he wasn't wearing his red gargoyle armor. But he didn't look as if he had been having a good time.

"You've got some balls to show around here, Titania!" the millionaire snapped, almost shrieked when he saw her. "What are you up to? Where _is_ Owen?"

"Lady Titania," Goliath quickly interrupted, managing to pull the extraordinary feat of looking more level headed than Xanatos, "What the blazes is going on? For months you have been coming and going from our castle, always seeking the Puck, and tonight it is Oberon himself who looks for the two of you!"

"Oberon?" she said, "Oberon was here!?"

"Oberon was here several times," Brooklyn pointed out, "But he refused to even talk to us!"

"—But he gave us this!" Xanatos continued, as he dug his jacket for his object. "_This_!"

It was a very familiar pair of thin rim glasses.

"It's not…" Brooklyn began, "It's not what I think it is, right?"

She shook her head in despair, "_No_…"

"_Where_ is Puck…?" Xanatos kept going, "_Where_ is he? Just tell us where he is and we'll go get him…!"

"This is impossible!" Titania snapped instead, "I left him well guarded, he was just sleeping, I was just there barely half an hour ago, how could he…? He didn't have time… I was just there!" She shot the three mortals a look, "You've _got_ to believe me!"

But they didn't believe her. Goliath and Brooklyn exchanged looks fearing the worst, and David just leaned against a wall, with a forlorn expression creeping in his face.

"Thanks a lot, Titania…" the millionaire muttered icily, "It's just what I'd been telling him… it was all a big scheme to screw him…"

Titania just looked at her son-in-law. "David," she began, slowly, and shook her head, "I will return him here, David. I will. I _will_." She looked away, towards the floor, towards the ceiling, towards the elegant tapestries in the walls. 

It wasn't right. He couldn't have possibly… she was just there, barely twenty minutes ago…she looked at David, who gave her a glance full of hatred… He did not understand she had nothing do with it…and that it didn't make sense…

Her son-in-law wouldn't believe a word she said. He hadn't before and he wouldn't tonight. Definitely not tonight. Especially not tonight.

The two gargoyles wouldn't help. Goliath had a growing distrust of her that was winning him over at that same moment. He wouldn't believe her. Not right now. Not this night.

No one would believe tonight, no matter how much she argued or cried. Not with the overwhelming evidence against her. They would never believe her. Not tonight. Not tonight of all nights.

She closed her hand on the glasses and said, "No. I understand what he's doing. What he has been doing all this time…" she had to laugh, "Oh, King of Tricksters, you keep surprising me after so much time! No, Puck is _not_ dead…"

"Liar…" David mumbled, crossed his arms and looked away.

"He is _not dead_!" She repeated with command, "Oberon has lied to you, David. I know… I know you won't believe anything I say right now, but in the morning… No matter how bleak tonight might seem, rest assured Puck will be alive by tomorrow morning and that he has his whole life ahead of him. Trust me, David. _Trust me_! And when you see him… because you _will_ see him… tell him I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. He'll understand."

Goliath, who had been feeling at a lost all the while, finally spoke up, "But why should we believe you? You've been nothing but evasive right now!"

"You won't believe anything I saw tonight… But at dawn," Titania replied to Goliath, though giving Xanatos a meaningful look he avoided, "You will see what I'm capable of for all your sakes and from that day forward you will grow to love me more and more each day, and you will never be able to hate me. I'll become alive for you… if only in your memories. Remember what I've said and tell Puck about it. But right now…" she smiled for a moment, "Goliath…Brooklyn…please take care…"

"Where're you going?" Brooklyn began, but Titania had already melted into the shadows.

* * *

She could feel his presence near her. It had joined her after she left the castle, and followed her all the way to a secluded corner of Central Park.

There, right there near a tall, elaborate water fountain, that's where they reappeared. Anastasia, her last role as Anastasia, and Oberon, with a face that thinly disguised his real one.

They faced each other. Anastasia, the most serious she would ever be. Oberon, looking slightly superior over her and with a triumphant sneer.

It was he who spoke first: "Is the lady finally ready to go home? Or has she come to plead for the Puck's life?"

Anastasia grunted and said, "Exceptionally played, my lord. All this time, everything you've done was to close all the possible doors I had, to trap me in a corner and make me return. You turned everyone against me, slowly but surely. Puck's dream. My interventions. Those glasses you left my son-on-law. That was brilliant, milord. Absolute genius. I never knew you had it in you…"

"I am the King of Trickster, aren't I?"

She merely looked at him. "Yes. You are, aren't you? But I'll make it clear. I return with you and you'll leave the Puck alone. How about that?"

"How do you know he's not dead?" Oberon smirked cruelly.

"He's not dead." she said, unflinching, unsmiling, sounding sure of herself. "Anyway, that's my deal. Take it or leave it."

"What?" Oberon cajoled, "No begging? No screams, no insults? No kicking and screaming? You humiliate yourself for the servant boy?"

"Honor. Humiliation. It's all subjective, my lord. It depends on why you do it."

"And what does this bring you, proud Titania?" Oberon replied.

"Peace," she said, very simply, "Peace of the best kind. A _martyr_. Sometimes you gotta know when to play them, when to fold them or when to run away. This is my time to fold them, and in the morning…" She let a radiant smile take over her features, more radiant than any other smile in her life, "…and in the morning I will be more _powerful_ than you, I'll be loved and I'll be appreciated _forever_… just like I've always wanted to be… _forever_."

Oberon didn't understand and he would never understand. But that was quite alright. But this was the beginning of his downfall. "Mark the day in the calendar, mark the day when tyrants also agonize. Tonight has been the beginning of something new and you won't be able to stop me."

"And what if the Puck were about to die?"

Anastasia smiled that beautiful smile. She shook her head and said, "No. You won't. Let's go home, Oberon. Let's just go home."

Even though Oberon had the power and the tendency to get enraged and go after the Puck anyway, he did not. Titania knew she was right. He wouldn't.

Not while her powerful blue eyes were set in him, with some sort of renovated energy that drowned him, took him over and demanded him to do whatever she said.

"What has come over you…?" he asked, sincerely threatened, "Why that smirk? What do you have in mind!?"

"No plans. No tricks. Do you take my deal or not? Well?"

Oberon looked at her for the longest time. He wondered what that was all about. It didn't fit on his head why she would return to Avalon in exchange of the Puck. Especially after all the contempt she had showed him in the business of the child Alexander.

But she knew her lord. He did not care why she returned as long as she returned. And thinking himself the victor over this last squabble, he extended his hand towards Titania.

"Let Us leave this place, Titania." he said, regaining his king pose.

She took his hand and said, "As you wish, my lord."

But before the two of them melted in the shadows and returned to their birth land, he had to ask for one last time, "Such a pointless defeat. What are you getting out of this?"

"You wouldn't understand. But rest assured, it'll come with the first light of the dawn. So worry not about me. I will be fine. Now and forever."

EPILOGUE

He will wake up early in the morning, that internal clock will force him to open his eyes. He thinks he's on his bed, but then remembers what's happened, and he is surprised. He wonders how long did he sleep. Last time he checked, it had been around 3 am. He looks at the watch again and it reads 7 am.

Sunrise had come some time ago. It was a bright, sunny day.

He will run his fingers through his head and wonder. He will mumble a question: "Where is she?" and he will stand up and look for his shoes.

He won't know what to do. Anything could've happened while he slept, he reasons. Worried, he will pick up the phone and call the only number he will care about for a long time. The phone will ring several times before someone picks it up.

"Hello?" he will ask.

The millionaire will pick it up and he will spend some fifteen minutes saying the same thing in several forms: "Where the hell were you last night!? Get back here!"

He will be back at Wyvern rather quickly, because the morning traffic had just receded. His boss will be there, looking incredibly relieved. He will ask his assistant what happened. His assistant won't know what to say and he will instead ask: "Where is Titania?"

"I don't know." the other will reply, "She said… she told me to tell you she's sorry for not saying goodbye."

He will feel a lump in his throat and demand to hear what she had told them. He will sit and he will listen closely, very closely. And he will understand. He will understand and he won't know how to feel about it. But he will understand.

His boss won't first, but he would patiently reply, after he was done, "Something has happened to her, something that concerns us both. I never knew…" He will chuckle faintly, "I never knew she had it in her…that was very…very noble, I guess… I'm not saying Titania is a saint, but she has done something for us not many would. Things only women would do for us men. Things we're not capable of if faced with the challenge. But do understand her. It's the only thing was can do for her. No one should be split like this from the thing we love most… I can only wish no one had this end…"

"She has done us a great favor and we must understand. We _must_. It's all she wants from us. It's all she _ever_ wanted from us."

FIN

Author's note: Special thank-yous to all my proof-readers. You know who you are. Something of a late submission, 'cuz I had finished it some weeks ago and only now am I posting it. Emails, money donations, whatevers at [paganj@caribe.net][1]

(April 10, 2001)

   [1]: mailto:paganj@caribe.net



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